


A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved

by nothingbutsandanddust



Series: A life with love is a life that's been lived [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellamy is just a hot dork, Clarke is just a hot mess, F/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie, Minor Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Minor Raven Reyes/Miles Ezekiel Shaw, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, no one here knows how to function properly including me as I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutsandanddust/pseuds/nothingbutsandanddust
Summary: "Bellamy, what is the definition of soulmates?"After a long moment, he’d finally answered, “Two people who love each other more than anything or anyone else in the world. Two people who would do anything for each other. Two people who make each other better. Your soulmate doesn’t complete you but everything just seems better when you’re around them. Your soulmate is a person whose soul, heart and mind fits perfectly with your own.”(Or a soulmate au where Bellamy believes in soulmates and Clarke certainly does not.)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: A life with love is a life that's been lived [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605316
Comments: 11
Kudos: 207





	A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved

Clarke Griffin didn’t believe in soulmates. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. It wasn’t as if she could deny that two people with a matching so-called ‘soulmate mark’ existed and that they often found each other. Scientifically, there was no denying the existence of what everyone insisted on calling soulmates. However, Clarke did call bullshit on the notion that those who shared a soul mark were some perfect, star-crossed lovers that were predestined for each other by something out of their own control. When they were younger, Wells used to tease her that the reason Clarke was so skeptical about soulmates was that she was a control freak who didn’t like anything about her life being beyond her control. If she was being honest, he had a point.

In more recent years, Clarke had moved from a healthy dose of skepticism towards soulmates to outright hating the idea that somewhere out there her supposed perfect person was waiting. Her entire her life she’d watched her everything good being torn apart by soulmates. Until she was fifteen, she had thought her parents marriage - despite them not being soulmates - was perfect. There was no amount of love lost between them, even though the mark on Dad’s shoulder didn’t fit with the one at the nape of Mom’s neck. Even though he had lost his own soulmate, Jake Griffin loved his wife as if she were his. Clarke had thought Abby had also loved her husband with the love between soulmates but then she came home one night after she’d met her actual soulmate. Everything had changed. For a year, Clarke hadn’t been able to escape the near-constant screaming matches that her parents had every day. For a year, she’d watched the circles under her father’s eyes darken and his excitement for life dull. Then, when she was sixteen, after a particularly nasty fight between her parents, Jake Griffin had taken off for a run as he often did to calm down. This time, he didn’t come back. A drunk driver hit him, the police had told Clarke and her mother when they showed up at their door at three in the morning. Clarke hadn’t been able to stop crying that day. Abby hadn’t shed a single tear.

Then, when it finally seemed like the wound of her father’s death at the hands of her mother and her soulmate was healing, Clarke’s best friend Wells had been taken away from her because of soulmates yet again. Wells was one of what people often called the ‘lucky ones’. He’d known his soulmate ever since he was in preschool. They’d grown up together. Childhood best friends turned lovers (or, even better, _soulmates_ ). Clarke hadn’t thought it was so lucky when he died trying to protect his soulmate. Distantly, Clarke realized she couldn't blame the girl, that Wells had died a hero’s death. Everyone told her she should be honored to have been friends with such an amazing guy. But that didn’t bring her friend back did it?

When she was seventeen she had met and thought she’d fallen in love with Finn Collins. The fact that her mark didn’t match his was what had drawn her to him most. It had been exhilarating for a while, being young, dumb and in love without the pressure of being soulmates. But nothing good lasted and three months later, a dark-haired Latina girl had shown up at their high school and kissed Finn as if she’d been doing it for her entire life before she had even introduced herself. Clarke had slapped Finn across the face and vowed never to speak to him again. A week later, Raven Reyes had showed up at her door, face hard and sad. She’d cut off Clarke’s apologies.

“Don’t worry. Finn told me you didn’t know. I just- I thought this could never happen, you know? He’s my soulmate. It wasn’t _supposed_ to happen,” Raven had said bitterly, fighting back the tears glazing her eyes. 

“I’m sorry. He’s an asshole. Do you want a drink?” Clarke had offered, somewhat awkwardly. Then, she’d invited the dark-haired girl inside to raid her dad’s untouched liquor cabinet and make fun of Finn together. They’d been best friends ever since but Clarke had never forgotten that yet another person she cared about was hurt deeply by the supposed perfect match to her soul. 

Somehow, both her and Raven had made it to the same university and that was where Clarke had met Lexa. They were both art students, they were both ambitious and, most importantly, neither of them was hung up on their soulmate. At first, Clarke had been ecstatic to find someone like her, who didn’t give a shit about soulmates and was going to make their own damn choice who to love. Soon, she discovered that this had not been the case with Lexa. Her first clue should have been the constant comparisons the girl seemed to make between Clarke and her ex, Costia. Her second clue should have been Lexa’s complete and utter hatred at becoming serious or too attached, repeating her mantra of ‘love is weakness’ to Clarke almost religiously. But between being too desperate and caught up in the thought of being with someone who wasn’t her soulmate, Clarke had ignored the warning signs. She’d ignored Raven when she’d told her she didn’t like Lexa and didn’t think the relationship was good for Clarke. She’d ignored it when she had drifted apart from her friends, spending all her time with Lexa even though she almost always felt like shit when she was with her now. It was only when Clarke had told her girlfriend she loved her and Lexa had snapped that she’d accepted something was wrong.

“No, you don’t. You don’t love me, Clarke. Love is weakness. Because when you love someone and they die- I loved my soulmate and she _died_ \- Love makes you _weak_ , Clarke. Emotions make you _weak_ . Soulmates make you _weak_.” At the moment, Clarke had been unable to see past the hurt and realize that Lexa was right. “I think we both need space for a while, Clarke. I am sorry, I let this go too far. That’s on me.”

Clarke had seen red, “Let this get too far? Really? Like our relationship was some experiment that got out of control? Fuck you, Lexa.” She’d slammed the door behind her and left.

Raven had been livid when Clarke snuck into their apartment for the first time in a week. But what had truly shocked Clarke were Raven’s red, puffy eyes. In the years she’d known her, Clarke had only seen Raven cry a handful of times, half of those when she was drunk off her mind. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” she’d demanded, as Clarke stood frozen in the doorway. She’d managed to explain her fight with Lexa. “Oh, so you just ditch me when you have a girlfriend and as soon as you have a fight you come crawling back to me and expect me to be there for you? No, fuck you. I have been calling you for a _week_ . Because I needed you, Clarke, but you were too busy trying to spite the universe for whatever pathetic little grudge you hold. Finn’s _dead_. My soulmate fucking died and you weren’t there for me.”

“Raven, I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Of course you didn’t. Because you’re never around anymore. We’re your friends and you chose Lexa - kept choosing her over and over again - because you blame everything that has gone wrong in your life on soulmates and you think this is a way to defy them or whatever dumb shit you’ve convinced yourelf. You blame every person you lose on soulmates. Well, you know what, Clarke? It’s _you_ . Everyone _you_ love dies or gets hurt. Being around you is fucking toxic. Maybe it’s time to stop blaming your shit on everything and everyone else and accept that you might as well be the Commander of Death. You kill everything you touch.” 

Even after Raven had slammed the door to her bedroom shut, Clarke remained frozen in the living room for hours, staring blankly at nothing as her thoughts spiralled and darkened. Distantly, she had registered that Raven was drunk and grieving but that hadn’t made her words sting any less. 

The next morning, when Raven had emerged from her room and found Clarke sitting on the couch, eyes red and swollen, the dark-haired girl had burst into tears. Tackling Clarke in a hug, the apologies had spilled from her mouth as fast as the tears spilling from her eyes. Soon, Clarke’s own eyes had blurred and she’d spent the rest of the week making it up to Raven. 

Still, her best friend’s words had yet to fade from Clarke’s mind. It hadn’t helped that, a week later, Clarke had gotten the call that Lexa had died. Overdose, the unfeeling voice of the nurse had informed her when Raven and Clarke had burst into the hospital. Raven had held Clarke while she cried because the girl she loved had died and the last words she’d said to her were ‘fuck you’. Someone had tried to comfort her by saying that _it’s okay, Lexa’s happy. She’s with her soulmate now._

No, Clarke Griffin didn’t believe in soulmates.

* * *

Bellamy Blake believed in soulmates. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. While he did believe that there was someone out there whose soul perfectly matched his, he didn’t believe in the traditional idea of soulmates. He didn’t believe that the owner of the mark that matched his had to be his true soulmate. He rejected the idea that some unknown mystical force (The universe? God? Kermit? Who knows?) got to decide who the perfect person was and always would be for him. What he did believe was the soulmarks they were born with told them who the perfect person for them was at the time. Of course, people changed over the years, they became different, better and worse. People grew. That was how life worked. In some cases, Bellamy believed, the two original soulmates grew together, changed in the same ways that, when they met, their souls had changed but still somehow matched. Those were the lucky ones. The others’ souls grew and changed too, but they no longer matched with the soul of the person whose matching mark they possessed. They could still find someone, grow with that person, learn to love that person until their souls matched as well. Those were also soulmates, just as valid as the first type. 

Bellamy Blake believed in soulmates, but he believed soulmates were made, not found. 

He hadn’t always believed this though. When he was a child, he had idealized the traditional soulmates as much as everybody else did. Growing up poor, Bellamy hadn’t been able to have many possessions. Until he was eight, they hadn’t had a TV. Until he was thirteen, they hadn’t been able to afford good internet and a laptop. So, he had to find ways to keep himself entertained. Every day after school he had made his way over to the local library and read dozens among dozens of books. Fantasy novels. Contemporary novels. Children’s books. Young Adult books. New Adult books. You name it, he’s read it. The historical books about Ancient Greece and Rome were his favourites though. Some of his favourite stories were about soulmates who defied the gods to find each other. Every single great love story he had read was about two people with matching soulmarks coming together and living happily ever after. Eight-year-old Bellamy had thought that was the pinnacle of romance. 

In his senior year of high school, Bellamy met Gina and fell in love fast. Before her, he’d only had the occasional hookups, still clinging foolishly to the idea that there was no point in trying to love anyone but the person whose mark - whose soul - matched his own. But Gina had been unexpected and she’d changed everything. For the first time, Bellamy had stopped dreaming about unrealistically romantic scenarios of meeting his soulmate. Instead, he had dreamed of the pretty girl in his english class, with her kind brown eyes and gentle voice. For the first time, he had questioned the existence of soulmates. He had been in love with Gina, what was the mark on his wrist to tell him otherwise?

Gina’s death had nearly broken him. It hadn’t been unexpected. She’d told him she was sick months ago. That hadn’t made losing her any easier. For months after Gina’s death, Bellamy had been a ghost. People had looked at him with pity in their eyes and he’d hated them for it. But pity was better than those who had tried to comfort him by saying it didn’t matter anyway, she hadn’t been his soulmate, he’d find someone he’d love even more and he’d forget all about Gina. Why had even deluded himself into loving her in the first place? She had never been the perfect person for him. When a boy in his class had said that to him, Bellamy had been suspended for two weeks for breaking the boy’s arm and had ended up missing graduation. That summer, Bellamy Blake had decided he didn’t believe in soulmates.

Bellamy met Echo in his freshman year of college when he had still been bitter and enraged with the world and soulmates. Their relationship had been passionate and angry, driven by two resentful people who felt wronged by the world. At the time, he’d stubbornly refused to realize how toxic the relationship was. How they enabled each other’s rage, pain and bitterness to fester and destroy them inside out. When he’d been with Echo, it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up in a strange place without any recollection of the past couple of days. For months, he refused to listen to reason, ignored his mother’s and O’s pleas for him to stop this. When Miller had showed up to his and Echo’s apartment, hell bent on talking some sense into his friend, Bellamy had slammed the door in his face and locked him out. Two weeks later, Bellamy had woken up in an all-too familiar bed without any recollection of how he ended up in his childhood bedroom with his mother’s worried face staring down at him. It had taken him a moment to remember the fight he’d had with one of Echo’s friends in a bar that had nearly gotten him killed. Apparently, Echo had possessed the decency to drive his unconscious body to Aurora. 

“You’re lucky all you ended up with was a broken nose and some bruised ribs,” Aurora had told him.

Octavia’s livid outburst had been the polar opposite to his mother’s gentle tone.

“You’re lucky you’re still alive, you fucking idiot! How could you be so damn stupid? We told you. So many times, we told you to stop fucking ruining your own life with that _bitch_ but you never listened. And now you’re going out nearly getting yourself killed? I can’t bel-”

“Octavia, that’s enough. I need to talk to your brother about something. Go finish your homework.”

Immediately after Octavia had left, Bellamy had burst into tears. Wordlessly, Aurora had pulled her son into her arms, whispering calming words as she pet his curls softly. For what felt like hours, Bellamy had clung desperately to his mother, letting out all the pain and misery he’d been bottling up for months. 

“It hurts, mom. I loved her and I lost her and it hurts _so much_. And- and everyone keeps saying that it shouldn’t. But it does. If it shouldn’t hurt because she isn’t my soulmate, because I couldn't have loved her that much if she wasn’t, then I don’t understand- I can’t believe- How can soulmates exist? If I don’t get to choose who I love, who it hurts to lose, how can I have chosen Gina but loved her enough for her death to hurt this much?” Bellamy’s voice had broken as he spoke, voicing the thoughts that had tormented him for so long. “I don’t think I can believe in soulmates anymore.” 

“Oh, baby, no,” Aurora had cooed, carding her fingers through his hair soothingly. “You know, your father wasn’t my soulmate. Well, at least, his soulmark was not the one that matched mine. But, Bellamy, I still loved him so much. When I was with him, I had the same thoughts you did. If this was not the love between soulmates, then fuck soulmates. Who needed that anyway? But what you have to understand, Bellamy, is that your father _was_ my soulmate.” 

Confused, he’d asked, “What do you mean? You said my dad didn’t have a matching mark…”

She’d smiled knowingly.

“Bellamy, what is the definition of soulmates?” 

Immediately, Bellamy had opened his mouth, ready to reply with the idea that had been drilled into him by the world around him. _Soulmates were two people who shared a matching soulmark. Whether that be an identical mark, the first words their soulmate would say to them written somewhere on their body, the name of their soulmate, a timer counting down the time until they met their soulmate, or - the rarest of them all - two marks that compliment one another and turned silver or gold when their soulmate touched the mark._

His mother had cut him off, knowing exactly what his response was going to be. 

“And not the general definition about soulmates being those who share a soulmark. What does that soulmark mean? What does being soulmates mean?” 

At that, he’d paused. 

After a long moment, he’d finally answered, “Two people who love each other more than anything or anyone else in the world. Two people who would do anything for each other. Two people who make each other better. Your soulmate doesn’t complete you but everything just seems better when you’re around them. Your soulmate is a person whose soul, heart and mind fits perfectly with your own.”

Aurora had smiled wistfully at him, stroking a hand down his face. She’d always told him he looked exactly like his father, with his dad’s nose dusted with his freckles and his father’s mouth. 

“I was born with the soulmark that matched the person’s whose soul best fit mine at the time. But time went on and life changed me, as it does to everybody. You know that your sister’s father is the man whose mark matched my own. I think maybe life changed his soul as well, but in a different way than mine. By the time we met, our souls no longer fit. I didn’t understand it at the time, but he just wasn’t my soulmate anymore. Your father on the other hand...his soul was the perfect fit for mine. I never managed to love O’s dad the way I loved your father. And the pain I felt when my soulmate died...what I felt when the man whose soulmark matched mine left could never even begin to compare.”

“Bellamy, soulmates aren’t found, they’re made. I met your father and I fell in love with him, we grew closer, we formed a relationship and a love unlike anything else I’ve ever felt. Our souls already complimented each other but they grew to fit perfectly and he became my soulmate. That’s why I always thought those born with soulmarks that allowed you to know when you met your true soulmate at that time in your life, like timers or marks that turn gold and silver when your soulmate touches them, were the luckiest of us all. That’s why you hear stories of people’s timers suddenly changing for no reason. I know the general assumption is that their soulmate simply moved farther away or made some sort of life-altering decision but I always believed it was because their souls had changed enough that someone else had become their soulmate. And the stories of those people whose soulmarks changed colour when their soulmate touched them, even if there was no obvious link between the marks? Those people had been born with a mark that linked to their original soulmates’ but only changed colour when their true soulmate touched the mark.”

“What I’m trying to say is that, while Gina might have just been someone you fell in love with, she could have very well been your soulmate despite not having matching soulmarks. Whether she was or wasn’t, don’t let anyone invalidate your pain no matter what. And don’t let anyone tell you who is your soulmate and who you love like a soulmate based on some silly pattern no one seems to truly understand.”

Throughout the entirety of his mother’s speech, Bellamy had remained silent, processing every word she’d said thoroughly. This idea of soulmates made so much more sense to him than his old belief and than his nihilistic denial of their existence. Of course, these marks couldn't be meaningless. Everything had a meaning. They had just simply been misunderstood. For some unknown reason, this new perception of soulmates seemed to have eased the pain of losing Gina. Stupid as it was, it was as if it had justified his grief. Bellamy knew grief didn’t need to be justified but it had given him comfort in that moment.

Then, a terrifying thought had had his heart sinking into his stomach.

“If Gina was really my soulmate, does that mean I’ve lost my chance at the kind of love between soulmates?” It was all Bellamy could do to keep the terrified quiver from his voice. A small, guilty part of him had subconsciously been comforted by the fact that Gina had not been his soulmate because that meant, eventually, he could find the perfect person for him. 

“No,” she’d assured him softly, a small smile on her face. “You’re soul is always changing, growing, evolving. Your soulmate is whoever’s soul you allow to grow with yours until they are the flawless fit. Can you honestly say that you’re the same exact person you were when you were with Gina?” 

Bellamy had shaken his head. No, he’d changed so much in the ten months since Gina’s death. What had worried him was that it wasn’t for the better.

“Exactly. Then you have another chance, another soulmate out there. Who knows, perhaps it might even be the person whose mark matches yours or whose soulmark is a timer or a colour changing one.”

Bellamy managed a weak smile and closed his eyes as his mother continued to run her fingers through his hair. Silently, he made a vow that he would start getting his life together, he would start fixing every damaged part of himself, so that when he finally met his soulmate he would be good enough for them. 

Yes, Bellamy Blake believed in soulmates.

-

Clarke Griffin hated college parties. She hated the cramped spaces and claustrophobia of being in an overcrowded room. She hated the overwhelming odour of sweaty bodies and cheap alcohol. The only thing she enjoyed about these things was getting absolutely hammered and hooking up with random strangers. It was the only reason she allowed Raven to drag her to the occasional horrible party. 

Tonight was one of those days Clarke gave in and hauled herself to another dumb party. At least, she thought miserably as she pulled on a black dress, this one was thrown by Monty and Jasper. Clarke actually liked them. At some point, they’d been friends. Now, she didn’t really have friends but she was still friendly with the two boys. They still tried to treat her the same way they had before she’d pushed them away. She appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t know how to break it to them that it only hurt more for them to still behave like that around. Missing them was like a never-ending ache. If Raven could hear her thoughts right now, she would scoff and tell her to finally stop being an idiot and stop shutting them out. But she didn’t understand why Clarke did what she did. It was for their own good so it was worth it, no matter how much she suffered.

Of course, Clarke had tried to do the same with Raven but her fierce friend had not taken it for a moment. The more Clarke had tried to push her out, the more Raven ingrained herself into Clarke’s life.

_“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Griffin. I can’t stop you from doing it to Monty, Jasper, and Harper but you sure as hell can’t pull that shit with me,” Raven hissed fiercely, having shown up unannounced at Clarke’s apartment when the blonde had attempted to cancel yet another movie night. “It’s bad enough that you insisted on moving out, dick move by the way, but you are not going to shut me out of your life because you’re scared. I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way, you know that. You also know I didn’t mean it. You have to know it’s not true, right?”_

_Clarke merely shrugged hopelessly, turning her gaze back to the TV silently. In the last couple of weeks, she’d moved out of their shared apartment and become infinitely more withdrawn and quiet. That hadn’t seemed to deter Raven because she still insisted on these silly movie night every Friday night. Short of getting a restraining order, Clarke could only do so much to keep her best friend away. Instead, she’d opted for the next best thing and kept Raven at an arm’s length. Even if she couldn't physically withdraw herself from her friend, she could damn well keep her emotions in check. She knew Clarke’s new behaviour hurt Raven and her heart ached every time she caught her friend’s sad glances but she had no other choice._

“Are you ready to go?” 

Raven’s voice snapped Clarke out of the memory and she regarded her appearance in the mirror one last time before she snatched up her purse and left the room. Tapping her foot impatiently, Raven was waiting by the door and looped her arm through Clarke’s as they left the apartment. The walk to Monty and Jasper’s wasn’t long and was mostly spent with Raven chattering away while Clarke only very rarely interjected. It was how they always were now. A part of Clarke missed the way it used to be before, yearned for things to return to normal. But a bigger part of her knew that she couldn't allow that to happen. 

They made it to Monty and Jasper’s place and could already hear the music blasting out from inside before the door was opened. How no one had yet complained about the noise was beyond Clarke. Usually, it was Monty who was still sober enough to answer the door by the time the girls arrived but tonight it was Jasper who opened it after Raven had rang the bell. 

“Clarkey, you came!” He slurred excitedly, throwing his arms around her shoulders, not seeming to notice or care about the way she tensed and froze, unable to bring herself to return the hug. She wanted to though. She so badly wanted to. 

Sensing her friend’s unease, Raven stepped in smoothly, “What am I then, Jas? Chopped liver?” 

At the sound of Raven’s voice, Jasper immediately pulled back from Clarke, snapping his neck around to beam at the girl. It wasn’t even a moment before he was yanking Raven in for a hug of her own. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him as well and gave him a tight squeeze.

“ ‘Course not, dummy,” he said, smiling at Raven as if she were silly to even suggest such a thing. “S’just I haven’t seen Clarke in forever. You never come ‘round anymore, young lady.” He waved a reprimanding finger in her face and managed to maintain a mock serious expression for all of two seconds before he burst into another fit of giggles. Clarke’s heart strained painfully at the familiar sound. “I just miss you, that’s all.” 

Blinking rapidly to keep from crying, Clarke simply nodded and followed the inebriated boy into the party. _I miss you too,_ is what she had wanted to say. Despite the party having only started an hour ago, it was in full swing and everyone in attendance were varying levels of intoxicated. While she was usually more comfortable at Jasper and Monty’s parties, this one would be one of the worst. Most of the guests knew her and some had even been her friends at some point and, as drunk as they seemed to be right now, it would definitely lead to some awkward encounters. In order to avoid this, Clarke usually found somewhere quiet to hide from everyone but that was only if she could escape Raven. Thankfully, she spotted the familiar face of Shaw and saw his eyes lock onto Raven’s at the same time her friend spotted him. A bright grin broke out across her face as he approached them. Shaw was the guy that Raven _totally did not_ have a massive crush on. This was the perfect opportunity for Clarke to slip away.

“I’ll give you two some space to talk,” Clarke whispered to her best friend and made to move away when Raven said.

“Just please, try to have some fun today.” She turned large, pleading brown eyes on Clarke.

Swallowing, Clarke gave a half-hearted shrug.

“We’ll see, Rae.” 

Then, Shaw was standing next to Raven and, before she could stop ber, Clarke snuck away to the small balcony she knew would most likely be deserted. Since Monty and Jasper never used it, it seemed to be covered in an almost permanent layer of dust that deterred any of the others from coming out here. It made for a perfect escape for Clarke and was her most used hiding place in this apartment. To her surprise, someone else seemed to have beat her to it because she found a guy leaning against the railing and looking out into the night. With his back facing her, the only thing Clarke could tell was that he was tall and had a head of messy, soft-looking dark curls. 

She stood frozen staring at his back for too long since he seemed to sense her gaze and turned in search of the source of the disturbance. Some people had an attractive back and Clarke had thought he did. To her surprise, he was also very attractive from the front as well, with intense dark eyes, a sharp jaw and freckles dotted across his warm light brown skin. A small scar was visible on part of his upper lips and his eyes were framed nicely by long dark lashes. Beautiful, was the first word that registered in her mind upon laying eyes on him. 

“Can I help you?” 

The question managed to snap her back to reality (although she still noticed how deep his voice was and how it somehow made him sexier) and she stumbled over her next words.

“I was just, uh, just trying to come out here to avoid, you know,” she gestured back lamely at the sound of the music blaring, “the whole party scene.”

“Well, unfortunately for you I was here first and I’d really rather be alone right now so you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to be antisocial.” For some reason, his dismissive, somewhat offensive tone made her see red.

Face twisting into a scowl, Clarke snapped, “Actually, this is my spot. I always come here, so technically you’re the one who stole my spot. Maybe _you_ should go find somewhere else to be alone.” 

An infuriating smirk made its way onto his face.

“Well, _Princess_ ,” he sneered, the nickname spat with no amount of venom wasted, “if this is your spot, how come I don’t see your name on it? Besides, last time I checked, this wasn’t your apartment so nowhere here is actually yours.”

An irrational anger was beginning to build up inside Clarke and curled her hands into fists. Who the fuck was this guy to treat her this way?

“Don’t call me ‘princess’, asshole. I have a name.”

The man’s smirk only widened. 

“Considering you’ve so rudely not introduced yourself, how could I have known your name?” 

Rolling her eyes, Clarke hesitated before saying, “My name’s Clarke.”

Looking her up and down - something that definitely did not send a shiver up her spine - he made a show of seriously considering something, although the smirk never left his lips. Clarke had met many assholes like him before and she had no interest wasting her time on him. Still, it was better to stay here and deal with him than go back inside and talk to people she’d once called her closest friends. The depressing situation was not lost on her.

“Nah, I think I’m gonna stick with Princess. It suits you. And, for the sake of politeness, I’m Bellamy. Now, if you would so kindly fuck off and leave me alone, that would be highly appreciated.”

Stubbornly, Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. “No, I think I’m going to stick with asshole. It suits you. And I am not leaving so if you’re so desperate for you precious alone time you’re going to have to find somewhere else.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”

“I’m not going anywhere either, asshole.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They both turned away from each other and leaned against the railing at the opposite end of the balcony. Thankfully, Bellamy kept quiet and Clarke managed to pretend she was alone out here, just her and her thoughts in the dark. That was as depressing a combination as could be. It hadn’t always been like this for Clarke. She’d used to love going to parties, especially Jas and Monty’s. They’d all play beer pong and Clarke would dominate everyone who went up against her. Then, Jasper would force feed her and Raven one of his newest concoctions and they’d have a near death experience and, most likely, a funny story to tell their other friends later. There were no words to describe how much Clarke missed doing that with her friends. How much she missed actually having friends.

When her thoughts began to spiral too far into everything she yearned for, Clarke scrambled desperately for something to distract her. Unfortunately, her only option was the grumpy asshole to her right. Fuck it, she was desperate.

“Why did you even come to a party if you just want to be alone? I mean, that isn’t exactly what parties are for?” Clarke finally asked, after gathering the confidence to do so for longer than she’d like to admit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy shot her a glare but she didn’t turn away. They held each other’s gazes for a long moment before he finally sighed in defeat and ran a hand through his already-messy hair. 

“My sister, Octavia, decided that I didn’t have enough friends and this is her attempt at forcing me to be social.”

“Octavia? Oh, you’re Octavia Blake’s brother. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

Bellamy raised his brows.

“You know my sister? She’s never mentioned a Clarke and she usually tells me about her friends.”

Clarke looked away.

“No, we’re, uh, we’re not friends. I met her once or twice when I was friends with Monty and Jasper. She mentioned having a brother.”

A curious look was on Bellamy’s face but he didn’t ask the question she could see he wanted to. Instead, he turned back to stare out into the darkness. Assuming the conversation was over, Clarke did as well.

After about a minute of silence, he spoke again, startling her, “What about you? Coming to a party isn’t exactly what someone who wants to avoid the whole party scene tends to do.”

When she chanced a quick glance at him, she found him staring at her with wide, curious eyes, the right corner of his mouth tugged up in a half-smile and his right brow raised questioningly.

“Same as you, only it was my friend Raven who decided that it was her responsibility to take my social life into her own hands,” she explained.

“Wait, Raven Reyes? So, you’re Clarke Griffin?”

Shocked, Clarke could only manage to say, “I- Yes…?”

“Yeah, I know Raven. She mentioned her best friend Clarke Griffin once or twice. I don’t know why it didn’t click before this. Guess I just always assumed Clarke was a guy’s name. Couldn't your parents have just given you a normal name?”

Defensively, Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and levelled him with a glare.

“That’s rich, coming from a guy named _Bellamy_ ,” Clarke retorted. The fact that this seemed only to amuse him further irritated her to no end. 

“Touche, Princess.” Again, that annoying nickname. Even if he was mad at her for being on the balcony as well, he should have the common human decency of addressing a complete stranger by at least their name.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped again, eyes flashing dangerously. It was an expression that often had Jasper cowering but it didn’t seem to phase Bellamy in the slightest. Somehow, that made her hate him even more.

“Why not, _Princess_?” The nickname was overly emphasized as he leaned down closer to her face. Angrily, Clarke shoved passed him, purposefully bumping into his shoulder as she moved to the other side of the balcony.

“Oh my God, are you an actual child? When someone tells you they don’t like being called something what most decent mature adults would do is to stop calling them by that name.”

Finally, the smirk melted off of Bellamy’s face to be replaced by an angry scowl. Incredulously he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. She glared right back up at him, matching every drop of venom in his angry gaze.

“I don’t need a lecture about politeness from you.” His features twisted in a snarl.

Clarke felt the corners of her mouth twitch up into a triumphant smirk. “I wouldn’t have to give you any if you had proper manners in the first place.”

Bellamy’s dark eyes flashed as he spat, “Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t raised in the proper way like you, Princess.” He bent down a little, so that he was up in her face. Clarke refused to flinch away.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The smirk was back on his face, but this one was humourless and bitter. It somehow conveyed more hatred than when he’d glared at her.

“It means that I know your type, Clarke Griffin. Rich, spoiled, pampered. You had everything handed to you on a silver platter and never had to work a day in your life. You don’t know what it feels like to suffer. You don’t know what it feels like to have a hard life. I bet every tiny problem you face you just run off to Daddy so he can throw some-”

Bellamy’s rant was interrupted by Clarke slapping him across the face hard. More startled than hurt, he lifted a hand to his cheek and regarded her with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe what she’d just done. Clarke was too busy fighting back tears to feel bad for the red handprint she’d left across his face. 

Instead, she hissed, “Fuck you, Bellamy. You don’t know a single thing about me.” And ran back into the party.

Despite knowing that it would bother her friend, Clarke took off without Raven, running all the way back to her apartment while choking back sobs. When she reached the door to her apartment, she rummaged around her purse for her keys but her hand was shaking too much. It took her a couple of tries to finally manage to jam the keys into the lock and open the door, stumbling into the apartment haphazardly and slamming the door shut behind her. Carelessly, she tossed her purse onto the counter and kicked off her shoes in the middle of the living room. No one would care anyway, she didn’t have a roommate anymore. By the time she made it to her bedroom, tears and mascara were streaking down her face and she was already halfway out of her dress, which she let pool on the floor once she finally managed to wriggle it off her body. Walking towards the bed, she unhooked her bra and threw it onto the chair by her desk. Finally, she peeled off the bracelets she wore on her left wrist to hide the stupid soul mark imprinted on the pale skin there and dropped them onto the desk. Then, she threw herself down onto the bed, dressed in nothing but her underwear. She didn’t care that crying into her pillow meant that her makeup would stain the white cover, she didn’t have the energy to wipe it off right now. 

It wasn’t just Bellamy mentioning her father that had upset her, but that had been her breaking point. The stress of the party, talking to Jasper, and the anniversary of Finn’s death a couple of days ago had all built up and Bellamy’s comments had just been the tipping point. 

After a couple of minutes, Clarke finally managed to calm down and pulled her face from the pillow, now stained black with mascara. Somehow, she managed to dredge up the energy to push herself off the bed and go wash off whatever makeup remained on her face. Luckily, she remembered to text Raven that she’d gone home early before she crashed back onto her bed, pushing the dirty pillow onto the floor to be dealt with tomorrow. Wearily, she wrapped her arms around the remaining soft pillow and buried her head into it. 

That night’s sleep was plagued with nightmares of her father’s body, broken and bruised, as Jake Griffin bled while Clarke screamed at her mother to save him and Abby simply watched her husband bleed out. 

* * *

Bellamy awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring at 8am on a Sunday morning. Groaning, he reached out to silence the obnoxious sound then allowed himself an additional ten seconds in bed as he came to terms with the fact that he had to get up and be a semi-functional human being. At least, he reminded himself while he rolled off the mattress, he liked this job. It was at a little bookstore about 4 miles from campus. There usually weren’t that many customers so Bellamy could often relax and read a book until he had actual work to do. The pay was decent and the owner, an elderly lady by the name of Vera Kane, was kind and understanding, often letting him get away with stuff that would have gotten him fired anywhere else. 

Blearily, Bellamy somehow managed to stumble into the shower and didn’t even wince as the ice cold water rained down on his shoulders, chasing off the last traces of sleep from him. When he was finished, he switched off the water and jumped out of the shower, grabbing an old thin towel to dry off his dripping hair. Once no more droplets were falling onto his shoulders, he wrapped the towel around his waist and brushed his teeth before shaving quickly. Working at Mrs Kane’s was a casual affair, so Bellamy could get away with wearing a pair of worn jeans and a grey button down rolled up to his elbows to work. According to Octavia, the fact that he pre-packed his backpack for work the night before made him a freak but if it made his mornings any easier he’d gladly do it every day. Unlike his sister, who was an obnoxiously chipper morning person, Bellamy wasn’t a fully functioning human until at least ten in the morning.

By the time he emerged from his room, it was already eight forty-five and Octavia was sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of her. Because she was dressed in nice clothes, Bellamy knew she’d already gone on her run _and_ showered by the time it had taken him to get ready for work. How she could do that was beyond him. Grumbling under his breath, Bellamy dragged himself over to the fridge and pulled out the near-empty carton of milk. Great, he’d have to stop by the grocery shop on his way home to get some more. Thankfully though, there was enough left so that he could make cereal for himself and he scarfed it down quickly. While Mrs Kane often let him get away with being late, he didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness when he could help it. 

“Bye, Big Brother,” Octavia called after he placed a kiss to the top of her head and ran out the door.

“Bye, O. Good luck with getting that job,” he called back before he shut the door behind him and unlocked his bicycle from where it was chained. 

Usually, he would take the car because his mom didn’t have work on Saturdays and Sundays, but Aurora had errands to run this morning and had taken the beat up old nissan for herself. So, today, he would be cycling to work. Not that Bellamy minded, he understood how hard their mom worked so that they could live the easiest lives she could give them. A little inconvenience here or there for him was nothing compared to that. 

By the time he reached the bookstore, it was nine fifteen and he was five minutes early. Making sure the bike was chained securely, Bellamy made his way into the store and behind the counter. Vera had informed him she’d be coming in an hour late today so the task of reshelving the three dozen or so books fell to him. Considering it was a relatively easy task, he completed it fairly quickly, going back to wait behind the counter with a book to keep him entertained until customers came in. It was an old, worn paperback copy of the Iliad, creased in a hundred different places and some pages were even stained with hot chocolate from the time he’d spilled the beverage while he was reading the book for the third time. This was his fifth time reading but, somehow, it never managed to bore him even for a moment. Perhaps it was a result of the fond memories of his mother reading it to him for the first time when he was a little boy that the book brought up. Or perhaps it was a result of Bellamy’s love for Ancient Civilizations. Honestly, O might have been onto something by calling it an obsession since he ended up majoring in Classics, despite the knowledge that there was little he could do with that degree. Currently, his dream was to teach at college level, despite the constant reminders from people that it was an over-saturated field.

Bellamy was so immersed in the novel that he didn’t hear the little bell chime that signalled someone had come in. It wasn’t until she was standing right in front of him and clearing her throat that he finally noticed her. At the sight of Clarke Griffin standing in the little bookstore where he worked, a nervous expression on her face, Bellamy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t seen the blonde since the fiasco that was Jasper and Monty’s party two weeks ago. In that time, he had come to regret some of what he’d said to her (especially after Raven had berated him when she’d finally pried it out of him that him and Clarke had gotten in an argument). For some reason, he hadn’t been able to get the blonde girl off his mind. At first, it had been because he was still angry with her. Then, it had turned into curiosity. There was just something strange about her and Bellamy couldn't help but want to figure it out. In the end, it had returned to anger and frustration because he just couldn't seem to get her off his mind for no apparent reason. Unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help the flare of irritation in his chest when she opened her mouth to speak.

“Um, hi. I was just wondering if you had a copy of this book I’m looking for here? It’s called Illuminae, I think,” Clarke said, in that toneless voice customers often used when speaking to him. So they were just going to act as if they had never met before? Although it wasn’t completely strange. After all, they’d only met once and it hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Besides, just because Bellamy had been unable to get her off his mind didn’t mean Clarke had given him a second thought since the party. For some reason, that though upset him even more.

“You think or you know?” Bellamy demanded irritably, although he knew it was unfair of him to treat her this way. She was at least attempting to be perfectly civil with him. There was just something about the way her cheeks flushed red with anger and her piercing blue eyes flashed menacingly. 

Last time they’d argued, Bellamy had noticed that she crossed her arms over her chest in a manner that seemed both defensive and threatening. Even though she was a good head shorter than him, Clarke somehow managed to look down her nose at Bellamy in a way that made his blood boil. 

“I know,” she reaffirmed stubbornly, her brows drawn down low over her eyes as she glared at him in the exact same manner she had two weeks ago. Strangely, the expression was already familiar to Bellamy. He couldn't help the way the corners of his lips quirked up with a strange affectionate amusement at the expression. Unfortunately, she seemed to have taken it as him laughing at her.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he teased lightly, which only soured her mood further.

Clarke scowled at him. “Yes, I’m sure. Can you just tell me if you have the damn book or not?”

“Patience, Princess.” He couldn't help the nickname from slipping out, it just suited her so well. And something about getting under her skin so easily gave him a thrill. “Isn’t patience a part of your oh-so-beloved proper manners?”

Somehow, her already flushed face turned a shade redder as she tossed him a venomous glare. Then, something shifted in her eyes and she took a steadying breath, placing her hands on her hips. Today, she was dressed much differently than when he’d last seen her, which was to be expected considering the contrasting settings. Her washed out gray hoodie and black jeans were a far cry from the little black dress she’d been wearing at the party. She looked infinitely more at ease now, in these casual clothes, than she had in that dress and, somehow, that made her look prettier to Bellamy. Despite his irritation at seeing her, Bellamy had not been able to help noticing how beautiful she was two weeks ago. 

“If you’re unable to actually do your job without insulting me in the process then I have no issues going to another bookstore, Blake.” 

At the implication that he couldn't do his job, Bellamy’s nostrils flared and he felt his cheeks flood with heat. Yeah, he liked that he was able to get under her skin with such ease but she certainly was able to do that as well. Judging by the way a satisfied smirk ghosted her lips upon seeing she’d gotten to him, Bellamy guessed she liked it too. 

“I’ll have you know, Princess, that I am perfectly capable of doing my job and I don’t need you condescending me about it. You’re not better than me,” he replied darkly, fingers swiftly flying over the keyboard as he searched for the book she’d asked for. 

In the short moment he allowed himself to glance up, he caught sight of Clarke’s wide-eyed expression. 

“I never said that. If that’s what you inferred that’s your own issue but don’t put words in my mouth. I was just pointing out that I came in here trying to be perfectly professional with you and you’ve done nothing but insult me the entire time.” By this point, her hands had curled into fists and her glare was so sharp it would have other men cowering. But Bellamy stubbornly stood his ground and glared right back.

“You think maybe it’s because I’m still mad you slapped me two weeks ago and never apologized for it?” That was an outright lie. He’d stopped being angry with her for that less than a day later. If he was being honest, he’d kind of deserved it.

It was strange to see Clarke’s anger sputter as she faltered, her mouth snapping shut and the rage in her eyes dimming a little.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Her apology shocked Bellamy enough that he looked up from the desktop and regarded her with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he finally managed, “I kind of deserved it. I was being a dick.”

Another moment of silence stretched between them and Bellamy focused back down on the keyboard.

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

The only sound that interrupted the silence were the keys clacking as he searched for the book she’d asked for. Finally, the system pulled up a match that told him it was in stock and the section it would be in. Tonelessly, he relayed the information to her and she thanked him curtly before going to search for the novel. It was an effort for Bellamy not to watch her walk away and he stuck his gaze adamantly back onto the worn pages of the Iliad. Only he couldn't seem to focus on the words and kept having to read the same page over and over again as he tried to push the irritating thoughts of the blonde out of his head. In the end, he’d read the same page five times without registering a single word and he gave up with a huff of annoyance, letting the book fall shut on the counter next to him. 

A minute later, Clarke appeared once more, an orange book clutched in her hand. It was one of the only novels Bellamy hadn’t yet gotten around to reading and now that she was, he was curious as to what it was about. Sometimes if they had a large stock available, Mrs Kane would let him borrow a copy to read as long as he didn’t damage it. 

“Is it good?” He couldn't help but ask as he scanned the price tag. 

Clarke levelled him with an unimpressed stare. 

“I wouldn’t know, considering that I’m buying it right now to read it later.”

Blushing a little, Bellamy flashed her a sheepish smile and held out the book for her to take after she’d handed him the money. Only now she’d turned her gaze to his copy of the Iliad and her eyes had shuttered. For a moment, Bellamy cocked his head to the side curiously and observed her abnormal reaction to seeing the book. Her face had gone completely blank except for the slight tightening of her lips and her arms had come up to wrap around each other, as if she were protecting herself from something. This only caused Bellamy’s curiosity to intensify.

“Is that yours?” She finally asked, tearing her eyes away from the copy but retaining the falsely casual expression. 

Suddenly defensive, Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest.

“Didn’t expect someone like me to read the Iliad?”

Once again, Clarke’s eyes widened as she exclaimed, “What? No. Stop putting words in my mouth, for fuck’s sake!” Then, she hesitated and the indignation faded into anxiousness as she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. A movement Bellamy totally did not follow with his eyes because that would be strange and creepy. “I just- My dad and I used to read stuff like that together. It just surprised me that’s all.” A blush coloured her pale cheeks, as if she was embarrassed she’d revealed that to him. Honestly, Bellamy was surprised she was even speaking to him since he half expected her to slap him across the face again and storm out. Not that he was complaining. Some small part of him thrilled at getting to know her better. He did his best to ignore that part.

“My mom used to tell me about Ancient Greece and Rome all the time too. It’s why I’m a classics major now. Although, Ancient Greece was always more fascinating to me,” he explained, unsure of why he was talking to _Clarke Griffin_ of all people about himself at all. 

Although she didn’t respond, Clarke made a face and looked away. 

Bellamy’s eyebrows rose inquisitively. “What?”

“Nothing, just...Ancient Rome is so much more interesting than Ancient Greece.” 

In that moment, Bellamy was pretty sure his mouth flopped open in a way that made him look like an indignant fish. Clarke surveyed him with her right brow raised coolly as he struggled to string together a coherent counterargument beyond ‘you’re wrong and stupid’. 

“What- No- How could- In what universe could Ancient Rome possibly be better than Ancient Greece. Did you even know they were the first to implement democracy? That is one of the most unbelievable things to come out of history! They were ahead of their time. What did Rome have?” Bellamy didn’t even know why he was arguing with her, he loved Ancient Rome almost as much as he did Ancient Greece. 

“You want to talk about unbelievable things that came out of history? Roman architecture was beautiful.” 

“The only reason Roman architecture was good is because they copied everything the Greeks had done! Just like they did with Greek art. The Greeks used their superior knowledge about mathematics to create incredible pieces of art using complex geometric- ”

“Yeah, Roman architecture was basically Greek architecture but it was way better. I mean, the Greeks couldn't even figure out how to use concrete properly.” Clarke shot back, cutting off what he was planning on turning into a rant about Ancient Greece’s artistic superiority. He bristled at the interruption. “And your point about art is completely false. Yes, the Romans were heavily influenced by Greek art but they made it their own. They made it better. The Greeks’ art focused too much on the idealization of the human body. Their sculptures were unrealistically flawless. Now the Romans knew how to blend realism, by taking mortal flaws into consideration and not creating a picture of a perfect human, with glorification, by exaggerating the art.”

“Oh please,” Bellamy scoffed, pushing up from his chair as the adrenaline of the building argument spiked. “Everyone knows that Roman art was a tool the Emperors used for propaganda.”

“Maybe so. But at least, unlike the Greeks, they realized glory could come from mortal achievements rather than the divine perfection of appearance. It’s why the Emperors were often depicted in battle armor rather than left nude like the Ancient Greek sculptures.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the appreciation of human anatomy through art,” Bellamy protested, even though a part of him acknowledged that she had a point.

“Even so,” Clarke plowed forward, although he didn’t miss the hidden concession, “Roman art was still miles ahead of Greek art considering they went beyond sculpture and architecture. The paintings that came out of Rome are breathtaking. Their murals and wall art alone would trump any art that came out of Greece.”

“Considering the Greeks didn’t train in painting beyond simple designs on urns, it isn’t fair to pit the Romans’ paintings against the Greeks’.”

“It’s still artwork isn’t it? So, if we’re arguing superior artwork then we have to factor in that Romans managed to discover an additional method of art.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Clarke stared at him with a triumphant expression on her face, as if she’d won the argument. But Bellamy wasn’t about to back down. 

“Even _if_ Roman artwork was superior, there are so many other things to take into consideration when deciding which is more interesting. Like the Greeks’ incredible warriors. The Spartans are legendary in their glory,” Bellamy said, although he realized a moment too late that comparing Greek and Roman military might not be the greatest strategy to winning this argument. But the idea of losing the argument to Clarke frustrated him beyond belief and when he was frustrated he slipped up stupidly. 

“Of course you’d focus on fighting. God, you’re such a _guy._ ” How she managed to make that sound like an insult, Bellamy didn’t know. “But fine, if you want to talk war, let’s talk war. The Romans had the most impressive, successful and powerful military in history. The Roman Empire managed to control a large part of the Western world for a thousand years. Their military strategy was ingenious and ahead of its time. Ancient Rome is more fascinating in every way.”

“That is complete bullshit. Some of the greatest philosophers of all time came out of Greece. Not a single great philosopher came out of Rome.”

“Oh come on!” Clarke exclaimed, throwing her hands up passionately. “It’s common knowledge the Romans were more focused on practicality than philosophy. It isn’t fair to say they wouldn’t have had any great philosophers if that is what they were focused on.”

Smirking, Bellamy pointed out, “Yeah, but we’re talking about which of them is more fascinating and not what’s fair. You can’t deny that philosophy is interesting.” He could see her frustration building up beneath the surface, clashing against his own fiercely. In search of an adequate response, she opened and shut her mouth repeatedly

“Whatever, Bellamy. One aspect in which the Greeks _debatably_ have the upperhand does not outweigh all the other ways the Romans are superior. Face it, most people simply prefer Greek over Rome because of media bias,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest once more. 

“What does that even mean?” Bellamy demanded, huffing out a breath of irritation. 

“Oh come on. I bet you were one of those kids who just read books like Percy Jackson and ended up idealizing the Greeks over the Romans for no reason,” she said, levelling him with another one of her unimpressed stares. It drove Bellamy mad. Yes, he had been one of those kids who’d read Percy Jackson (and all of Rick Riordan’s work) growing up but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“And what’s wrong with Percy Jackson now?” He demanded defensively, instead of voicing all the mature and valid counter arguments he had. 

“Nothing. It’s just that it’s a _children’s book_ so maybe opinions on Ancient Civilizations should be formed based off the actual history rather than depictions of a book written for twelve-year-old’s.”

“Need I remind you that I’m a Classics major, meaning that _of course_ I’ve taken the actual history into consideration. In fact, my arguments are probably more valid since I actually study this.” The statement was punctuated with an air of finality that Bellamy achieved by crossing his arms over his chest and grinning triumphantly down at the ever-unimpressed blonde.

“Just because it’s not my major doesn’t mean I don’t-”

Clarke was cut off by Mrs Kane’s voice.

“Is everything alright here? I heard- Oh, Clarke dear! I’m so glad to see you. It’s been too long.” Bellamy watched in frozen horror as his boss pulled the girl he was just having _another_ very explosive argument with into a motherly hug. Although, he couldn't help but notice how Clarke tensed as soon as the elderly woman’s arms wrapped around her. It took her a moment to return the hug and she somehow managed to keep it short. Something Bellamy knew from experience was a difficult feat when it came to Mrs Kane. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” Clarke replied, although it sounded like anything but. Still, the forced smile on her face seemed to fool Mrs Kane. “I just came to buy a book but stayed to talk to Bellamy here for a while.” Talk, he thought silently, was a very generous word for what they had been doing. 

Finally, Mrs Kane seemed to notice his presence and turned her bright smile on him. 

“Oh, you two know each other?” She said brightly. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy answered, although his eyes were fixed on Clarke. He could tell that she shared his opinion that it was anything but nice. “I just wasn’t aware you knew Clarke, Mrs Kane.”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s because my granddaughter here doesn’t come around often.” Although the statement was uttered in Mrs Kane’s ever cheerful tone, the underlying chastisement was clear.

“Granddaughter?” Bellamy repeated, brows raised. He didn’t miss the slight wince that went through Clarke at the word.

Before Mrs Kane could say anything, Clarke cut her off with her own explanation, “Mrs Kane’s son is my mother’s husband. And soulmate. But he’s not my father.” Clarke’s prioritization of Marcus’ status as her mother’s husband was peculiar to say the least. Most people would only introduce their partner as their soulmate and as husband or wife as an afterthought. Meanwhile Clarke’s admission of soulmate seemed more like the afterthought. Almost unconsciously, Clarke’s right hand seemed to wander down to her left wrist, where a number of bracelets concealed the pale skin. Although he didn’t know her well, Bellamy didn’t get the feeling that she was the type of person who liked anything beyond minimalist jewelry. He wondered if the stacking bracelets concealed her soulmark. 

“But we’re practically family,” Mrs Kane continued as she meandered behind the counter aimlessly. Judging by the uncomfortable way she held herself, Clarke clearly disagreed with that opinion. 

A moment of awkward silence stretched between the three before Clarke shifted from leg to leg restlessly and said, “Well, I have an assignment I need to get to work on so I should get going. It was nice seeing you again, Mrs Kane. Bellamy...I’ll see you around.”

Before she could leave, Mrs Kane said, “It was wonderful seeing you too, dear. And I’ve told you a hundred times, at least call me Vera. None of that Mrs Kane nonsense. Please, come around more often. Even if you’re not buying a book. We just had a reading lounge added in. You could just come in and read, if you’d like.” Although Clarke gave a curt nod before she left, Bellamy could tell she wasn’t a fan of the idea.

Which was why it was so shocking that, a week later, it was exactly what she did.

* * *

It was 11:03am on Saturday and Clarke had been awake since sunrise. Rather than by choice, it had been an unfortunate result of a night plagued with nightmares. In the end, it was the image of Raven’s face as Clarke told her that she’d be moving out that managed to wake Clarke from an already restless sleep. After an hour wasted trying to go back to sleep, she’d finally given up and decided to work on a paper her Art History professor had set for her. She’d spent a good twenty minutes staring at the blank word document before she’d slammed her laptop shut in a huff and decided maybe reading the book she’d bought last week would be a good distraction. 

Now, she’d been staring with unseeing eyes at the same page for an unacceptable amount of time. Each tick of the clock mounted on the wall behind her echoed through the painfully empty apartment and vibrated in Clarke’s bones. Days like this were hard. The silence did nothing but remind her of the isolation she’d resigned herself to living in and knowing it was for the best didn’t make it any easier. 

Clarke listened intently as another minute ticked by, grinding her teeth as the sound of the seconds passing became nearly unbearable. But it was a Saturday, which meant that Raven was hanging out with Monty and Jasper and Clarke had nowhere to go. Of course, she knew she’d be welcome with them despite everything but it wasn’t even an option. So, she sat in her deafeningly silent apartment, hyper aware of the emptiness of her world and resigning herself to the face that there was nothing she could do about it. Unless…

An idiotic, nonsensical idea began to form in her head. Anywhere was better than being here alone at her apartment, letting the silence drown her minute by minute. Besides, she knew the woman wouldn’t be there anyway and she could deal with him if it just meant getting out of her own head. 

Before she’d even pulled her coat on, Clarke was out the door, book clutched tightly in one hand and her phone in the other. Thankfully, the bookstore was only a short walk away from Clarke’s apartment and she managed to get there before her fingers completely froze off. If there was one thing from Arkadia that Clarke missed it was the relatively warm winters. Polis’ January sun was nothing but a distant illusion taunting her with rays that didn’t provide any heat. 

She stepped into the bookshop and sighed in relief as the warmth seeped through her. At the sound of the bell chime announcing her arrival, Bellamy looked up, mouth open ready to greet the customer that he was probably expecting to be anyone but Clarke. His response was lost as his jaw went slack and he stared at her with shock. Awkwardly, she managed a small wave.

“Hey,” she greeted, remaining frozen for another second before she walked over to the reading lounge Mrs Kane had told her about last week. It was cozy. A couple of soft-looking armchairs nestled between two tall bookcases and situated close to a large window for light. 

“Uh, hey, Clarke,” he finally managed to respond, clearing his throat awkwardly before he spoke. She could feel his eyes linger on her as she sunk into one of the armchairs, which was even softer than it looked. A contented sigh escaped her lips as her limbs continued to defrost in the warmth provided by the heater. Eventually, her coat and scarf would become too much for how warm it was in here, but for now Clarke was happy to overheat. She wasn’t built for the cold. 

“Are you just gonna sit there in silence or actually read a book? Because you’re just staring off into space and looking like you want the chair to swallow you whole and it’s starting to freak me out a little bit.”

Bellamy’s voice startled Clarke back into the present moment and she glanced at him sheepishly. He was staring back at her with an amused smile on his face. For having only known him for such a short time, it was an expression she was becoming strangely accustomed to. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long week. I’m just kind of out of it, you know?” She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain herself to a person she referred to as asshole in her head more often than not but here she was. The understanding nod he responded with definitely did not comfort her some inexplicable reason. Definitely not. 

Assuming the conversation was over, Clarke opened her book to the first page and let herself read the words she’d only previously managed to glare at. It was why his next words made her jump a little.

“So what are you doing here?” 

Even though it wasn’t voiced as an accusation, Clarke’s sleep-deprived mind insisted on taking it as one. She slammed the book shut and glared at him with tired eyes. A part of her was sure she looked more pathetic than threatening in that moment but a bigger part of her didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that everyone is welcome here,” she snapped irritably, keeping her glare as focused and sharp as she could. God, she needed a cup of coffee. Or three. 

Shocked, Bellamy raised his hands in a defensive gesture and took a step back. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Princess. You just didn’t seem all that enthusiastic when Mrs Kane mentioned it to you last week.”

Suddenly, the burst of energy left Clarke and she sniffed quietly as she sunk back into the chair. 

“Yeah, well, I just couldn't focus at my apartment. Couldn't read,” she muttered, fixing her stare on the coffee table in front of her. 

“But I thought you live alone?” She whipped her head towards him, eyes widening. At her alarmed expression, he quickly elaborated, ears turning red as he registered how wrong his question had sounded. “No, I mean, it’s just Raven told me you moved out to live on your own so I just assumed it’d be quiet where you lived. No noisy or obnoxious roommates to piss you off. So, loud neighbors then?”

Curiously, Clarke regarded the man in front of her. Just a week ago, they had been at each other’s throats having a dumb argument Clarke wasn’t even sure had a reason for taking place. Now, he was talking to her almost like he actually cared about her life. There was no reason he had for making small talk with her, after all he was working. Bellamy was strange in a way that intrigued her. A little too much, judging by the amount of times her mind had strayed to the thought of him over the past week. But he was just unlike anyone she’d ever met before. Being around him felt so different than being around everyone else she knew.

“No,” she admitted slowly, “it is quiet in my apartment. But it’s too quiet. I don’t know, it just bothers me.” Another understanding nod that seemed to settle her nerves.

This time, the conversation really was over since the chiming of the bell signalled another customers arrival and Bellamy plastered a welcoming smile as he walked over to help out the young girl. Clarke allowed herself a moment to watch the way he seemed completely at ease as he kindly asked how he could help the girl before she returned to her book. With the quiet sound of voices and the constant hum of the lights above her, it was easy for Clarke to slip into the fictional world contained within the pages. Eventually, the voices faded into the soft cling of the bell and the occasional clicking of keys. Sometimes, she would hear the sound of a page being turned or Bellamy’s footsteps as he walked around the space when a customer came in. The ever-present reminder that she wasn’t alone, even for a second, was oddly comforting. Even though her company was Bellamy Blake of all people.

When she saw him take a seat on the chair across from her, it was well past three in the afternoon. Glancing up from her book for the first time in hours, she raised an inquisitive brow at him. Grinning he simply jerked his head at the book in own lap. 

“It’s a slow day.” Was his only explanation, as he flipped open the book and immediately became immersed in the story. Clarke only shrugged and returned to her own novel.

The next interruption came only ten minutes later, when she felt his eyes on her for the third time in two minutes. The third time, she caught him before he averted his gaze and stared at him questioningly.

“What?” 

Bellamy merely shook his head and grinned. “You just make these cute funny expressions whenever something happens in your book. And my book is boring so it’s more interesting to watch you read yours.” 

Clarke was stuck halfway between feeling offended and completely baffled by him once again. How easily he managed to get under her skin bothered her and she tucked her legs beneath her defensively. 

“Well, it’s weird so stop doing that,” she sniped curtly, returning her attention to the book in her lap. 

It seemed Bellamy was not deterred since he asked, “What’s your book about?” When she glared at him over the rim of the page he simply raised his hands in a mock-peaceful gesture. “What? My book is the worst so maybe I’ll just get a copy of what you’re reading if it sounds good.”

For a moment, Clarke regarded him with a skeptical expression but was eventually worn down by the way the left corner of his mouth was tugged up in a subtle grin. 

“It’s sci-fi so it’s set in a futuristic world where everyone lives on different planets and humans seemed to have mastered space travel and basically discovered what was left in the universe. Now, you’d think that since we’ve evolved to become this smart we’d know better than to still have a system in place that allows corporations to gain uncontrollable and unreasonable levels of power but the future is basically ‘we’re still a mess, but with cooler tech’.” That startled a laugh from Bellamy and Clarke found herself grinning at the sound. “Anyways, the novel follows the main character, Kady, who has to flee her planet in a spaceship because large corporations are the bane of human existence while being chased by another evil spaceship. For bonus points, there’s also a genocidal AI and a creepy disease.”

By the time she was finished, Bellamy’s brows were raised and he was looking at her with an expression that she could only describe as fond amusement. “You’re kind of shit at descriptions, you know that?” Clarke flushed because, yeah, she kind of was. 

“Whatever, Blake,” she retorted. “You’re the one who asked.”

“Yeah, trust me, I’ve learned from my mistake,” he teased, causing her to roll her eyes at him dramatically. Asshole.

Then, after a short pause, she said, “Actually, though, it’s a really good book. The writing style and the way the authors tell the story is completely unique and interesting. Besides, it does delve into some pretty interesting concepts on morality and humanity.” 

Quirking a brow, Bellamy cocked his head and decided, “Alright, I’ll give it a look.” And with that, he pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the bookcases. 

“Where are you going?” She asked and immediately flushed. Of course, he was still at work and besides he didn’t need to hang out with her. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted him to stay.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to get the book, Princess.” He responded, throwing her a smug grin over his shoulder. 

“I wasn’t worried,” she called after him. “I was just relieved you were finally leaving me in peace.” 

He squawked with exaggerated indignation, clutching a hand to his heart as if she’d mortally wounded him. “And here I was thinking we were starting to get along. I wonder where those manners you chastised me about at the party are now, huh?” In response to her rolling her eyes at him, he winked at her charmingly before disappearing behind a bookcase. Clarke shook her head and glanced away. 

Moments later, he appeared with another copy of Illuminae in his hands and Clarke watched as he dropped into the seat across from her and carefully opened the novel. He flashed her another grin that had her levelling an unimpressed stare at him before she returned her eyes to her own book. When she chanced a glance at him a couple of minutes later, Clarke noticed that he also made a range of quirky facial expressions while he immersed himself in the novel. Every now and then, she caught herself getting distracted by watching the faces he made, a mindless smile on her face before she realized she was staring and returned her gaze to the pages of her book. 

An hour later, Clarke’s alarm rang, reminding her that she needed to get going. At the sound, Bellamy’s head had snapped up and she felt his eyes on her as she gathered her stuff and got up. 

“See you next week?” Although it was meant as a goodbye, Clarke noticed that he phrased it more like a question. While he also got up, either to leave or get back to work, he bit his lip nervously. 

“Or maybe I’ll find somewhere with less annoying company,” she teased, grinning at him. 

Bellamy’s eyes sparked and he grinned back at her. “Oh, please. I’m a delight.”

“Mhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, asshole. I think you might be my least favourite part about the bookstore.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess.”

Clarke bit her lip to keep from giggling and gave him a parting wave before she slipped out into the cold December evening and made her way back to her apartment, wondering when she’d stopped thinking of the nickname as an insult. 

* * *

For the third time in five minutes, Bellamy’s eyes strayed to the door of the bookstore then to the clock mounted behind him. It was almost a subconscious motion, one that he got increasingly frustrated with himself for doing. That was if he admitted to himself why was doing it. Even if she did come in, it was a busy day and he would probably not get the chance to sit with her until he was off work. But that was only if the reason he kept glancing at the door was because he wanted to see her. Which it wasn’t. Not at all. He had no reason to want to see her. They barely got along and that was only when they were discussing books of all things. There was no reason to want her to come in today so Bellamy told himself he didn’t and focused all his attention on helping the middle-aged woman with dark hair find what she was looking for. 

It was how he missed Clarke Griffin walking into the store, a small backpack slung lopsidedly over her shoulder. When he did finally notice her presence, an embarrassingly wide grin stretched across his face. Thankfully, she was returning the smile with a shy one of her own as she waved at him in greeting. She looked like she was about to approach him but the customer he was helping cleared her throat impatiently and sent him a disapproving glare. With a final apologetic glance, Bellamy tore his attention from Clarke and focused on helping the woman. He didn’t miss the way she snickered quietly at the interaction. Yeah, he was an asshole but so was she. He hoped she caught the glare he sent her before she turned away to sit in the reading lounge. 

It was a good fifteen minutes before he finally managed to get the woman to buy something and leave the store. Fifteen minutes of suffering with a forced smile on his face as the lady changed her mind every ten seconds and talked down to him every time she opened her mouth. As he watched her step out of the store, his shoulders slumped and a relieved sigh escaped his lips. God, he deserved some sort of award for dealing with people like that. And for managing to hold back the frustrated groan that threatened to burst from his lips when an elderly man showed up at the counter demanding angrily why they didn’t have any copies of the book clearly set up on a display. When that man was dealt with, Bellamy had a moment to peek at Clarke, who was sitting in the same armchair she’d sat in last week. Only this time, instead of having a book open in her lap, she had a sketchbook flipped open and a pencil tucked behind her ear that she pulled out and started drawing with. Every so often, her brows would furrow together and she’d bring the back of the pencil to her lips as she stared at the page contemplatively. Then, her eyes would light and she’d begin sketching furiously once more. A mindless smile found its way onto Bellamy’s face as he watched her lose herself in her sketching. He wondered what it was she was drawing. 

Thankfully, after the remaining two customers bought their books and left, the store was empty, save for him and Clarke, for the time being. Taking his borrowed copy of Illuminae with him, he made his way over to her. She was so immersed in her drawing that she didn’t notice him until he was standing right in front of her. The smile that greeted him seemed almost involuntarily on her part but it was radiant nonetheless.

“Hey,” he said, sinking down into the armchair across from her.

“Hi,” she replied. “Bad customer?”

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to the woman he’d been helping when Clarke had come in. Groaning, he wriggled back into the soft chair and rubbed at his face. 

“You have no idea,” Bellamy said, letting his book fall open in his lap as Clarke flipped to a new page in her sketchbook. A couple of minutes passed by, the soft scratch of pencil across paper and the occasional rustle of pages were the only sounds that filled the silence. 

After catching her glancing at him one too many times, Bellamy finally let his book fall shut and looked at her questioningly. He smiled. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied, twirling her pencil between two fingers. Then, her voice lowered an octave in what he assumed was supposed to be an imitation of him. “You just make these cute funny expressions whenever something happens in your book.” 

He wrinkled his nose. “I sound nothing like that.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Shaking his head, he watched her glance down at the sketchbook then back up at him. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he saw the tips of her ears turn a pale pink before she untucked her hair from behind them, causing the pretty blonde strands to obscure them from view. 

“What are you drawing?” The question seemed to startle her and she cradled her sketchbook protectively against her chest, as if he were going to reach out and snatch it from her hands.

“Uh, nothing really.” At his disbelieving expression, she huffed out an exasperated breath. “Okay, fine. I’m an art major and it’s good to get practice outside of class assignments. Sometimes I like to draw the characters in the books I like. I was trying to draw Kady. Are you happy with that answer?” Although she was glaring at him, there was no heat in her gaze.

Grinning, Bellamy nodded. “Oh, immensely. I’m incredibly nosy and now my need to know everything has been fulfilled. Well, almost fulfilled. Can I see the drawing?”

“No,” Clarke replied curtly, letting the sketchbook fall shut. 

Brows furrowing, he asked, “Why not? I’m sure it’s good, you’re an art major.”

Clarke paused and he could see her struggling to come up with an excuse. 

“It’s not finished yet,” was what she finally settled on, slipping the sketchbook back into her bag. 

An idea formed in his head and he held out his hand to her, saying, “Alright then. Give me your phone.”

Startled, Clarke regarded him with wide eyes as if he’d just grown another head. Admittedly, he had poorly phrased his request.

“What? Why?” But she pulled her phone out anyway.

Taking it from her hand, Bellamy replied, “So I can add my number and you can text me a picture whenever you finish the drawing.” 

By the time he’d handed her back her phone - his number now added to her contacts - Clarke was staring at him with a baffled expression on her face. “You do realize you could just wait until next week for me to show you the drawing, right?” She raised her eyebrows skeptically at him.

Ignoring the small thrill that shot through him at her confirmation that this was likely to be a weekly thing, Bellamy grinned. “Another thing you should know about me, Princess, is that in addition to being a nosy asshole, I am also incredibly impatient. Besides, maybe this was just my way of getting your number.”

“Technically, I got your number.”

“We can fix that,” he replied smoothly, handing her his phone. Shaking her head, Clarke huffed out a laugh and typed in her number. 

“Why do you even want my number? You don’t even like me.”

Oh, if only she knew the embarrassing amount of times she’d occupied his thoughts over the past week. Although, Bellamy still wasn’t completely sure why that was. 

“True,” he said, even though he hoped his smile conveyed that it was anything but, “but I also like to talk to people about the book I’m reading and you’re the only person I know who’s read it. So, I have to settle for texting you.” She smacked him playfully upside the head and he laughed. 

“Asshole,” she muttered, but he saw the way the corners of her mouth twitched upwards as she fought back a smile. 

Cutting their conversation short, the bell clanged and Bellamy left to go do his job with an apologetic smile in Clarke’s direction. To his surprise, she stood up as well and he couldn't help the disappointment he felt that she was leaving before his shift ended and he could spend some time with her. 

Only she didn’t pick up her bag and Bellamy was about to remind her not to forget it when she said, “I finished Illuminae yesterday so I’m going to get the second book, Gemina.” He ignored the relief that washed through him.

“Not to undermine my own job, but these books are kind of expensive. Wouldn’t it be easier to just borrow them from the library?”

“Yeah, the library doesn’t have them. Trust me, I’ve looked. I mean, books aren’t exactly my top priority expense on a waitress's salary but sometimes I’ll risk being broke and starved for the rest of the week.”

Bellamy snorted and wandered with her to the section where the Illuminae Files trilogy was stocked. Technically, she was a customer right now so he was doing his job. 

“Where do you waitress?” He asked, eyes glued on her as she browsed the shelf in search of the second book. 

Finally, she found the novel with the blue cover and pulled it from the shelf with gentle fingers. “A coffee shop called Grounders.”

“You’re kidding me, right? O and I always go there. How come I’ve never seen you?”

Shrugging, Clarke said, “Well, I work night shifts so you probably just come in some other time. Although, now that you mention it, a colleague of mine - Lincoln - has talked about Octavia once or twice. I think he has a crush on your sister.” 

“You’re friends with Lincoln?” He asked. 

Immediately, Clarke tensed, her movements becoming more anxious and jittery, concerning him a little. He went back over what he’d said, trying to find what it was that had made her uncomfortable but couldn't think of anything. 

“No,” she answered slowly, “not really.”

Concern, not only for Clarke but for his sister, who’d recently discovered that this Lincoln was her soulmate, arose in Bellamy.

“Oh,” he said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. “Is he not a good person?” 

Eyes widening, Clarke quickly amended, “Shit, no, of course he is. Quite the opposite, honestly. Lincoln is one of the best and kindest people I’ve ever met. It’s nothing personal. I just...I don’t really do friends.” 

Bellamy’s brows flew to the top of his forehead incredulously. Who didn’t _do_ friends? Friends were just a natural part of human life. And she didn’t make it sound like she had difficulty making friends, which Bellamy would have understood. Instead, she made it sound like she didn’t want to have friends, which was completely beyond him. Surely that was lonely? Obviously, Bellamy wanted to ask her about that but the uncomfortable way she was holding herself kept him from doing so. They hardly knew each other and, even if Bellamy did like her and could see them becoming friends, he didn’t want to push her into talking about something she wasn’t comfortable with. 

“Why the curiosity about Lincoln anyway?” She asked, switching topics and Bellamy let her. 

Awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his heating neck as he blushed in embarrassment. “Um, he’s kind of Octavia’s boyfriend and I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to get an outsider’s opinion. I mean, obviously hers and mine aren’t exactly unbiased. She looks at him like he invented oxygen or some sappy shit and I think that he looks like a convicted felon, but to each their own I guess.”

Clarke snorted and said, “Oh please. Lincoln couldn't hurt a fly. Is the demonization of your sister’s boyfriends some weird overprotective brother thing?” 

“Maybe,” he admitted a little sheepishly. So he wanted to protect his sister from a guy that looked like he could snap a person in half, sue him. “It’s not like my opinion on him matters much anyway. He’s O’s soulmate so I have no ground for an argument. It’s a done deal.”

There it was again, Clarke’s abnormally volatile reaction to soulmates. As soon as the word had left his lips, she seemed to flinch imperceptibly and her eyes darkened. Any trace of humour had faded and was replaced with tension. Perhaps she’d lost her soulmate recently? If so, Bellamy felt guilty for bringing it up so flippantly. His eyes strayed down to her left wrist, still concealed beneath stack bracelets. The curiosity of what she hid beneath those bracelets gnawed at him but he ignored the feeling. He wouldn’t push her.

“You believe in that sh- in soulmates?” 

Bellamy nodded slowly. “Yeah. You don’t?” It was almost unheard of for anyone to dispute the existence of soulmates so completely and yet Bellamy understood. Hell, he’d been there himself once.

“Not really.” Once again, Bellamy kept from pushing the topic and instead stepped behind the counter, scanning the price tag on her book and taking the money she handed him. 

He opened his mouth, to say what he didn’t know, but was interrupted by the appearance of a little girl next him. Through her dark bangs, she glanced up at him nervously with big brown eyes. The expression reminded him so much of Octavia at that age that his heart melted and he knelt down next to her, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey, kiddo. Do you need help finding a book?” 

The girl, who couldn't be older than seven, nodded shyly and he took her hand, guiding her to the kid’s’ section as he asked, “Do you know what the book is called?”

A proud smile broke out across her face and she nodded excitedly, exclaiming, “I do!”

“That’s awesome. Now, tell me the name and we’ll look for it together, okay?” The girl nodded enthusiastically and told him the title. It was a surprisingly advanced story for a child her age but she seemed like she’d be able to handle it. Quickly, they found the book and he took it back to the counter, scanning the price tag when the girl’s father appeared. Before her father could pay, the girl asked if she could do it and Bellamy told her how much it cost, letting her figure out the bills she had to take from her father’s wallet for a minute and assisting her when needed. Finally, she handed him the right amount with a triumphant smile and her father thanked him as they left the store. 

When he turned to look at Clarke, a smile was still on his face and he was glad to find the blonde looking back at him with a soft smile of her own, all traces of discomfort having vanished. Glancing at the clock, he realized he only had twenty minutes left in his shift. So, he left Clarke, who’d returned to reading, and began to place their newest delivery of books in the correct places. By the time he was done, Miller had already showed up for his shift and Bellamy had been working for ten minutes longer than necessary. Not that he minded. 

On his way back to the reading lounge, Bellamy greeted his coworker/friend with a smile. Miller’s only response was a smirk and nod in Clarke’s direction. Last week, his friend had certainly noticed that instead of rushing home like he usually did after his shift, Bellamy had stayed behind to talk to the girl currently completely oblivious to this interaction. Flushing, Bellamy flipped him off and walked over to Clarke, dropping into the seat next to her. Once she noticed him, she smiled at him brightly and put down her book. 

“Let me guess,” she said and lowered her voice in her imitation of him once again, “slow day?”

How she hadn’t yet noticed that his shift was over and that someone else was currently working he didn’t know. Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell her. That would require him explaining to her why he chose to stick around and, honestly, even he couldn't answer that for himself.

“Yep,” he said, crossing his arms behind his head. “Also, I thought maybe I could model a bit for you. Draw me like one of your french girls, Clarke.” 

Rolling her eyes, she let out a huff of laughter and actually threw the pencil she’d had tucked behind her ear at him. Laughing, he dodged the assault. They spent a quarter of an hour talking before he remembered that he had plans with Murphy and had to leave. He hoped that he wasn’t imagining the disappointment in her eyes when he told her.

“I’ll see you next week?” He asked, handing Clarke her bag. 

With a grateful smile, she took it from him and shrugged it on, letting it dangle lopsidedly over one shoulder. 

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I actually like it here. And with school starting again next week I’m going to need these weekly hours of not wanting to pull my hair out,” she joked, heading towards the door alongside him. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groaned, screwing his eyes shut at the thought of having to return to lessons. Even though he loved what he studied, he had a test on Wednesday that he was certainly not looking forward to. “You know, now I’m going to need you to send me that picture of your drawing even more. It’s going to be the highlight of my week.”

“That’s sad,” she pointed out. “And I make no promises, Blake.”

“See you next week, Clarke,” he said, taking off in the opposite direction she was headed.

“Bye, Bellamy,” she replied. 

Two days later, Bellamy’s phone lit up with a text from Clarke. It was two pictures. One was of the drawing she’d done of Kady. The second was a page filled with half a dozen sketches of his face. In each of them, he was looking at something but his facial expressions varied from one to the other. She’d captioned it ‘your cute funny faces when you read’. Bellamy stared at her drawings for too long, a grin stretching across his face.

Clarke Griffin was an incredible artist.

* * *

The end of December and all of January went by in the blink of an eye. As she’d done for the past two years, Clarke spent New Year’s Eve with Raven at Jasper and Monty’s annual party. Mostly, she’d spent her time hiding out in a corner, sipping champagne from her cup, and only emerged when it was time for the countdown. At midnight, Shaw had kissed Raven, Maya had kissed Jasper, and Monty had kissed Harper. Clarke had gotten a text from Bellamy that simply read ‘Happy New Year, Princess’ and it had filled her with an irrational sense of joy that made her forget that she was the only single one. The next day, she’d drawn him a picture of fireworks going off over the caricature of a startled Roman Emperor and written the words ‘Happy New Year’ in big letters. She’d snapped a picture and sent it to him, promising to give the actual drawing to him next Saturday. 

Speaking of Saturdays, Clarke had developed the habit of spending the day at Mrs Kane’s bookstore while Bellamy worked. More often than not, he’d be too busy to sit with her but he always spent a while with her towards the end of his shift. It wasn’t until her fifth time there that she’d realized he stayed behind with her long after his shift had ended. When she’d asked him about it, he’d simply shrugged and his cheeks had turned a bright pink.

True to his word, Bellamy had also begun texting her his thoughts while reading the book. Sometimes, she’d be working on an assignment and her phone would buzz with a text that only said ‘WTF !!!’. Other times, he’d text her an entire essay of his thoughts on a particular topic. Those were Clarke’s favourites, since they’d always end up getting into long discussions (or arguments) that had her grinning like an idiot at her phone as her fingers typed furiously. 

Today was one of those days and Raven, who was over for movie night, kept shooting her curious glances out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t get it,” the dark-haired girl finally said, causing Clarke to turn her attention away from her discussion with Bellamy. “I don’t get why you’re fine with hanging out with Bellamy, with talking to Bellamy like all the time, and yet you still insist on pushing Monty, Jasper and our other friends away. It makes no fucking sense to me.”

Shrugging, Clarke simply explained, “It’s different with me and Bellamy. We’re not actually friends.” At Raven’s expression of utter disbelief, Clarke insisted, “We’re not. I mean, we’re always disagreeing or arguing. That’s not what friends do.”

“Bullshit!” Raven exclaimed, pausing the movie they were watching, which was how Clarke knew things were getting serious. “You aren’t always arguing. And I know for a fact that you like those disagreements so don’t even try to bullshit me with this. Face it, Griffin. Bellamy Blake is your friend and you like it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you this so you start pushing him away. That is the last thing I want. It’s just that you’ve been so much happier lately, so much more like the old Clarke and I missed that, you know? And I know you’d be even happier if you just started being friends with everyone else again. I’m just asking you to think about it, Clarke.”

At Clarke’s nod, Raven turned back to the TV and unpaused the movie, stuffing her face with a fistful of popcorn. Clarke hadn’t lied. She was thinking about what Raven had said, but not what her friend probably wanted her thinking about. Now that Raven had brought it up, Clarke could see why she thought her and Bellamy were friends. Over the past couple of weeks, Clarke had come to enjoy the time they spend texting and she always got excited waiting for Saturdays to come around. Their disagreements had at some point shifted from arguments to friendly banter that were more fun than anything else. Fuck, Bellamy was definitely her friend. 

Instead of being happy at the realization, tears immediately sprung to her eyes. Even though Raven made it seem like she had the choice to continue being friends with him, it was definitely not an option. Not for Clarke. Even though she felt so damn happy when she was around him, it wasn’t worth the risk she was to him. If something happened to Bellamy...she didn’t know what she would do. No, there was no choice here.

Clarke’s phone chimed with a text from Bellamy. She ignored it. A couple of minutes later, he sent another one and she clenched her jaw, ignoring it too. When the third text arrived, she reached over and switched her phone off, fixing her eyes determinedly on the screen. 

“Clarke, don’t do this,” Raven pleaded, and Clarke realized her friend had been watching her the entire time. 

To keep them from trembling, Clarke clenched her hands into fists and placed them in her lap. Her voice was barely a whisper as she said, “I don’t have a choice.”

Raven jumped to her feet. “Of course you do! Stop saying that this is the only option when it’s not. God, Clarke, you can’t do this.”

Clarke couldn't bring herself to look at her friend, instead fixing her gaze on her clenched hands as she willed herself not to cry. 

“You keep saying it’s better for everyone this way but it isn’t. You’re hurting everyone with what you’re doing.”

Screwing her eyes shut, Clarke whispered, “Please, don’t.” A cold tear dripped onto the warm skin of her hands. 

Ignoring her friend’s pleas, Raven simply grabbed her bag and marched over to the door. Before she opened it, she paused, throwing one last glance over at Clarke. It was her final chance, Clarke knew, to show Raven she was willing to change, to fix what she’d broken, but Clarke couldn't bring herself to move. 

“You’re hurting yourself, Clarke. And I can’t just stand by and watch my best friend break herself into a thousand pieces.” With that, she walked out and let the door fall shut behind her. Raven didn’t slam it, but as the soft click sounded and the aching sobs began to pour from Clarke, she wished that she had. 

Even though she knew it was wishful thinking, Clarke was waiting for Raven to show up a week later in time for movie night. After an hour spent staring back and forth between the unmoving door and the ever-shifting clock, she finally accepted that her friend wasn’t going to come. Theoretically, Clarke should have been relieved - happy, even. This was what she had wanted, this was what was best. Instead, she just felt empty.

Digging the heels of her palms into her eyes to keep the tears from leaking out, Clarke pushed off the couch and dragged herself into the kitchen. After rummaging around the cupboards for a moment, she found a bunch of old newspapers, already splattered with dried paint and stained with prints of charcoal, and grabbed two fistfuls of them. Before she got out her charcoal, she made sure to cover a good bit of the floor of the living room carefully with a protective layer of newspapers. Then, she went to get her materials from where she kept them in the corner of her closet. After she’d set up, Clarke pulled out her phone and looked for the playlist she’d made for when she was painting or drawing (and upset because yes, she was enough of a control freak that she had specific art playlists depending on her mood). 

By the time the first song had finished playing, Clarke had already lost herself in her art, her charcoal pencil dancing gently across the canvas in graceful strokes. Then, as her thoughts spiralled to darker places, her movements became faster, messier, losing the gentle touch she’d begun with. Although she had started with a plan, she quickly forgot what it was and an image began to form instinctually. When she was finished, the sun had long ago set and only the lamp illuminated the space in a faint orange glow. As she stared at the finished project, her chest rose and fell with heaving breaths. She didn’t know when she’d started crying but she could feel the tears streaking down her face and she clenched her jaw in an attempt to trap the sobs that threatened to burst out of her inside. 

Preferring realism, Clarke didn’t often create abstract artwork but tonight she had needed to simply express her emotions in a way that wasn’t confined by anything. Despite the vaguely humanoid shape not possessing a face, it seemed sad to Clarke. As if the drawing was expressing her pain and loss. She ignored the part of her that recognized the shape of the figure, drawn from chest up, resembled Bellamy. Once she’d managed to regain some semblance of control over her emotions, Clarke packed up her materials and returned them to the closet. Before she rolled up the paper on which she’d drawn, she washed the black stain the charcoal had left on her hands, watching numbly as the dark colour mixed with the water and turned into a pale gray before it disappeared down into the drain. 

When she had finished cleaning up, she glanced at the clock, feeling bone-tired despite the fact that it was way before she usually fell into bed. Even though she had a couple of things she needed to do, Clarke couldn't dredge up the energy. Instead, she peeled off her shirt and jeans, pulling on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie she’d stolen from Wells a couple of months before he’d been murdered. It had long ago lost its smell of him but the garment usually managed to bring her some semblance of comfort. Only tonight, it only seemed to cause the gaping whole inside her to swell as soon as the fabric was pulled over her head. Still, she couldn't bring herself to take it off and buried her head in it while she sank onto the couch to watch a movie. Over the past few months, her and Raven had watched all the good movies that could be found on Netflix so Clarke settled for rewatching The Princess Bride for the third time. 

Clarke only managed to make it to Buttercup’s kidnapping before she slipped into a dreamless sleep, the movie still playing softly in the background.

* * *

“You okay, man?”

At the sound of his friend’s voice, Bellamy jumped and turned his wide gaze on Miller. After a quick glance at the clock, he realized his shift had ended a while ago and he hadn’t even noticed. Wearily, he ran a hand through his hair, messing up the already unkempt curls, and loosed a tired breath.

“Yeah.” Bellamy cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the note of disappointment that coloured his voice. It was the third Saturday that went by without Clarke showing up at the bookstore and, by the second time, he had given up all pretenses that her absence wasn’t the source of his disappointment. After the first time, he’d texted her, asking if she was okay in a faux-nonchalant manner. The short response that she was fine and simply busy had done nothing to ease his anxiousness and he’d spent the week trying to decide if he’d done something wrong. It had gotten so bad that Octavia had called him out on his moping and his mother had sent him a knowing sad smile that he was yet to decipher. “Yeah, it’s just been a long week.”

Despite his nod, Bellamy could tell that Miller didn’t believe him but, thankfully, he was never one to pry. If Bellamy wasn’t ready to talk about something Miller would simply wait until his friend couldn’t hold it in anymore and blurted it out, usually while they were hanging out at his apartment with beer and videogames. Then, they’d have a discussion (that usually resulted in Miller telling Bellamy he was an idiot) and they’d deal with whatever issue he had. He wished this problem was that simple. It wasn’t just that Clarke had stopped showing up because she was busy, which he didn’t believe for a second, but she had also stopped responding to most of his texts. When she did, it was with half-hearted, one-word answers that made Bellamy want to chuck his phone out of a window. After a week of this, he’d stopped trying to talk to her and accepted that she clearly didn’t want to talk to him. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss with her. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know why he missed her. It wasn’t as If they were particularly close. They weren’t even really friends for God’s sake! But he wanted to be her friend. He wanted to hang out with Clarke outside of the bookstore and he wanted to keep texting her about the books he was reading. He wanted to keep seeing the rare unrestrained bright laughs that had his heart fluttering every time he managed to startle them out of her. Yeah, maybe they weren’t friends but he wanted them to be. Unfortunately, it seemed that Clarke didn’t and he’d have to learn to deal with that.

“Alright, then,” Miller said, startling Bellamy out of his thoughts once again. “I guess I’ll see you at Raven’s tomorrow.” Bellamy nodded then turned to leave.

Even though it was already nearly the end of February, the cold had yet to loosen its hold on Polis and Bellamy’s breaths came out as pale white puffs of air as he trudged home. Once again, his mother had needed the car for her own errands and Bellamy had opted not to risk riding the bicycle on the frost-slick ground. By the time he was stumbling into the warmth of the apartment, he’d been suffering in the cold for about half an hour.

“Hey, Bell,” Octavia greeted, flashing him a grin from where she was perched atop the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of coffee clutched between her hands. Even though Bellamy absolutely despised the taste of coffee, the hot beverage looked heavenly to him.

“Please tell me you made some for me,” he said by way of greeting, shaking a couple of snowflakes from his hair. Even though it was warm in the apartment, he opted to keep his coat on while he defrosted. Although, he did take the time to pull off his gloves and scarf, tossing them haphazardly on the coffee table as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Jesus, I always forget how badly you deal with the cold,” Octavia laughed. “And even better than coffee, I made you some hot chocolate. It’s over there.” The scowl that had begun to form on Bellamy’s face at his sister’s teasing immediately melted into excitement at the mention of the steaming cup of hot chocolate O jerked her head at.

Immediately, he wrapped his cold hands around the hot cup and allowed the warmth to seep through him with a relieved sigh. God, he hated the cold. Before he took a sip, he took the time to inhale the delicious scent of the drink, causing Octavia to roll her eyes.

“Oh my God, you’re such a weirdo,” she declared, hopping off the kitchen counter as Bellamy stuck his tongue out at her childishly. “I have somewhere to be. I’ll be home by eleven.”

After placing her now-empty mug in the sink, Octavia grabbed her coat off the hanger and pulled it on, along with a ridiculously fluffy pink scarf she’d bought two years ago. He still remembered that day vividly. They had been Christmas shopping and even though she’d promised not to buy anything for herself, she hadn’t even made it an hour before emerging from the store with the scarf slung around her neck.

“It’s so fluffy, Bell,” she’d exclaimed upon catching his unimpressed stare. “How could I _not_ have bought it.”

The first time she’d met Lincoln, she’d been wearing the scarf and the man had awkwardly blurted out, “I really like your scarf. It’s very fluffy.” Ever since then, she always wore it when around her soulmate.

Although the prospect of his sister having a soulmate scared the ever living shit out of him, a part of Bellamy couldn’t help but humorously picture her wearing the ridiculous garment even in the height of summer when she was around Lincoln.

“Tell Lincoln I say hi and that I still think he’s too old for you,” Bellamy muttered into his drink, glancing up in time to catch O flipping him off before the door swung shut behind her.

Alone, Bellamy sighed and finished the rest of his hot chocolate before washing his and O’s mugs and leaving them to dry on the rack. Considering he’d already completed his assignments, he didn’t have anything to do and stood aimlessly for a moment in the middle of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the copy of Illuminae he’d finally given in and bought sitting on the coffee table. Every time he’d tried to read it, he’d pick up his phone and only remember that Clarke didn’t want to talk to him halfway through typing a long text about something that had just occurred in the novel. And every time he’d have to delete everything he’d written, a sad feeling washing over him as he sank back into the couch dejectedly and let the book fall shut. No, reading it wasn’t an option right now.

Finally, Bellamy huffed out a frustrated breath and trudged into his bedroom, dropping gracelessly into the chair behind his desk. Gently, he opened the laptop and clicked on one of his unfinished drafts despite not being in the mood to write. In high school, they’d had a term where they’d studied creative writing and Bellamy had immediately fallen in love with it. Even now, years later, he still loved creating stories out of nothing but stray ideas from his head, despite never allowing anyone to read them and having no plans to go into writing as a profession. Before he’d chosen Classics, Aurora had spent a week attempting to convince him to take a couple of writing courses.

“You’ve always been a good story-teller,” she’d told him, a fond smile on her face. “Even when you were just a little kid. When Octavia wasn’t able to sleep you’d always sit with her in bed and tell her stories until she fell asleep.”

“I think that just means my stories are so boring they’d put people to sleep,” he’d joked, self-deprecating as always. Beyond a pointed look here and there, his mother had let the topic drop after that.

Now, he was only able to stare at the flashing cursor while his frustration built. Every time he typed out a sentence, he’d go back, read over it, decide he hated every single word and delete it. After repeating the process one two many times, he left the doc with an irritated huff of defeat and stared at the background of his laptop with blank eyes. Usually, when he got writer’s block it was because there was something else weighing on his mind and, right now, every time he closed his eyes it was Clarke’s smiling face flashing behind the closed lids. Letting his head fall on the desk with a muffled thump, Bellamy let out a groan.

Then, a metaphorical lightbulb went off in his mind and he raised his head from the desk. Opening a new blank doc, Bellamy’s fingers began to fly over the keyboard with ease as his new idea filled him with renewed excitement. In his experience, the best way to get over the writer’s block caused by something on his mind was to either complete whatever it was or write about it. In this case, he’d gone for the latter. As the words materialized on the page in front of him easily, an excited smile made its way onto Bellamy’s face and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

By the time he was finished, his eyes were drooping and he’d stifled three yawns in the past ten minutes. A quick glance at the time displayed on his laptop screen told him it was half past twelve in the morning. Before he got up, he made sure to save the doc and switch off the laptop. He hadn’t given the short story an ending but he preferred it that way. What he’d written didn’t seem to need an ending just yet.

Before his head had even hit the pillow, Bellamy was out like a light.

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of Octavia and his mom’s laughter coming from the kitchen. Sundays were the only days all three of them had most of the day off and they always made sure to spend at least some of it together. Even when O had been going through her teenage years when she’d decided that she hated him and every single thing he said, she’d never missed the hours between the morning and afternoon that the three of them spent together.

Happily, Bellamy shoved the covers off but didn’t change out of his sweatpants and old ratty t-shirt before padding into the kitchen. Although the two women had clearly been up for a while, neither of them had gotten around to making breakfast. Which was likely due to the fact that he was the only person who could make a decent meal in this family. When he entered the kitchen, his mother and sister greeted him with identical bright smiles. Sometimes it was jarring how much Octavia looked like their mother. She was basically a younger version of Aurora Blake, with only some minute differences here and there.

“Morning, darling,” his mother greeted, giving him a quick hug and ruffling his hair as she’d done ever since he was a kid, despite the fact that he was so much taller than her now that she had to stand up on her toes to reach the top of his head.

In complete contrast to Aurora’s warm greeting, his sister said, “It’s about time, asshole. I was about to die of starvation.”

Even though he rolled his eyes at his sister’s words, Bellamy was already gathering the ingredients he needed to make his special Sunday morning pancakes with.

“Good morning to you too, O,” he said, tone dry. “You know, you could just learn to make your own food. It really isn’t that hard.”

“Nah, I think I’m just going to keep taking advantage of you, Big Brother,” she joked, patting him on the shoulder. “Besides, we have a good thing going here. You cook, I make you hot chocolate.”

Bellamy snorted, “Yes, because the effort it takes to cook a meal for three every day definitely equates to the effort it takes to occasionally brew a mug of hot chocolate.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at him and his mother, who had been watching her kids with a fond smile on her face, let out a soft laugh.

“Your brother might be right, O. Maybe you should start pulling your weight around here a bit more,” Aurora joked lightly, putting her arm around her daughter while Octavia crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. As O muttered a string of unintelligible complaints, Bellamy laughed. 

Soon, he had finished making the pancakes and the family sat around the kitchen counter to eat their breakfast, joking around and telling each other about their weeks. Once they were finished, they moved on to playing board games until lunch (which Bellamy also cooked because, again, he was the only one could make edible food), after which they watched movies until it was time for Aurora to go run some errands and for the two siblings to head to Raven’s house for a game night.

“I can’t believe I didn’t have to coerce you into showing up to game night,” Octavia said as they made their way to Raven’s apartment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy shot his sister a glare. “I don’t hate hanging out with our friends, O. I just don’t like when they try and get me to go to parties. Those things just aren’t my scene. Especially since I have to watch you and our underage friends repeatedly commit a crime.”

“Relax, old man,” Octavia laughed. “It’s underage drinking, not committing murder.”

Bellamy snorted and said, “Besides, I like Raven. She’s actually my friend, unlike those two clowns you insisted on befriending.”

“Oh please. You love Monty and Jas; you just won’t admit it to yourself.” Then, she paused, and a sly grin made its way onto her face. “Speaking of things you’re not admitting to yourself, are we both gonna ignore that you also wanna see Raven to ask about her friend that you _definitely don’t_ have an embarrassingly huge crush on.”

Immediately, Bellamy’s face heated as the blood rushed to his cheeks. “We’re not ignoring anything because that’s not true for two reasons: A) Raven’s actually my friend and I want to hang out with her for non-selfish reasons, and B) I do not have a crush on Clarke.”

Octavia adopted an incredibly unconvinced expression as she drawled, “Riiiigggghhhht. So you’ve just been moping around for weeks now because the girl you definitely don’t have a crush on has been ignoring you. Makes total sense.”

They had arrived at Raven’s apartment and, before Bellamy could even retort, Octavia raised her hand swiftly to knock on the door. Less than a moment later, a grinning – and definitely tipsy – Jasper answered the door and announced loudly, “THE BLAKES ARE HERE!”

In contrast to his sister, who didn’t bat an eye at Jasper’s yell and simply laughed at her friend’s antics, Bellamy flinched at the too-loud sound. Jesus, he really was an old man.

“Welcome to game night, fun Blake and fossil Blake,” Jasper said, laughing at his own horrible joke. Rolling his eyes, Bellamy brushed past the boy and made his way into Raven’s apartment. All their friends were already gathered on the floor around a deck of cards.

“You’re in luck, Blakes,” Raven announced, smirking at their approach. “We were just about to start.” Bellamy and Octavia took a seat in the circle and Monty began to deal out the cards.

Midway, he paused and turned to Raven, “Wait, shouldn’t we wait for Clarke. You said you were bringing her when we planned this three weeks ago.”

Embarrassingly, Bellamy perked up at the mention of Clarke, causing him to miss the way Raven tensed as he asked, “Clarke’s coming?”

“No,” Raven responded curtly. Bellamy deflated. “We got into a fight.”

Jasper and Monty shared a concerned glance and asked, “You okay?”

Nodding, Raven explained, “It wasn’t anything bad but I was just sick of this stupid game she insists on playing. I should apologize though, she needs someone with- well, you know.”

The boys nodded solemnly and Monty resumed dealing out the cards. However, Bellamy’s curiosity, as well as his worry for Clarke, was peaked and he turned questioning eyes on Raven. Immediately, she understood what his expression meant and let out a tired sigh.

“Actually Monty,” she said, interrupting the boy, “don’t deal Bellamy and I in. I need to talk to him about something.”

As they got up, Bellamy ignored the smug look his sister sent him. They walked into the kitchen, where they wouldn’t be overheard as long as they weren’t shouting.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bellamy couldn’t help but blurt out, “Is Clarke okay?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you two are so pathetic. And while I’m tempted to answer no because Clarke hasn’t really been okay in a long time, I just want to reassure you that she is in no immediate danger so don’t freak out.” Yeah, that did nothing to ease his worry.

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t want Clarke being alone during something?” He asked, ignoring her jab.

Sighing, Raven rubbed her temples, “It’s just that a difficult day is coming up for Clarke and as mad as I am at her, I can’t let her deal with it alone. But, fuck, I can’t keep doing this with her. I know she’s not doing what she is to hurt me – in fact, she thinks it’s to not hurt me – but I can’t just keep forgiving her because she needs it. We’re getting nowhere. I don’t know what-“

Suddenly, she paused and turned her calculating stare on Bellamy. A smile that he knew meant she was scheming appeared on her face and he fought the urge to gulp nervously.

“Actually, I think I might have a solution,” she said. “Finally! What are you doing next Saturday?”

Warily, Bellamy responded, “I have a shift at the bookstore until four. Why?”

“Because Saturday is the anniversary of Clarke’s best friend Wells’ death and she needs someone to be there for her. I think you’re the someone she needs, Bellamy.” Raven’s voice had softened and Bellamy swallowed. Obviously, he wanted to be there for Clarke – his heart strained at the thought of her spending such a difficult day alone – but he wasn’t sure Clarke would want him there. Surely, Raven was the better option.

“I don’t think she would want me to be there, Raven. She doesn’t even want to talk to me right now,” he said, trying to keep the sad tone out of his voice. Raven shook her head.

“Trust me, Bellamy, she wants you around. She just thinks she can’t.”

“What?” That made absolutely no sense.

Instead of explaining her bizarre statement as he’d hoped she would, Raven merely shook her head, “I can’t really explain it to you but I think Clarke might, if you ask. Just, please, Bellamy. She needs you, more than you understand right now.”

Even though a part of him wanted to protest, Bellamy swallowed down the words and nodded.

“I promise, I’ll be there for her.”

“Good,” was Raven’s only response.

* * *

A part of Clarke spent the week leading up to the anniversary of Wells’ death waiting for a call from Raven, telling her that she was sorry and would be there with Clarke on Saturday. Not that Clarke thought that Raven needed to apologize but she certainly couldn’t drag her friend back into her life. By Friday afternoon, with still no call from Raven, Clarke resigned herself to spending the anniversary on her own.

Good, a part of her thought bitterly, this was how it was meant to be. Every other part of her felt like it was about to shatter. She tried painting but couldn’t manage to create anything with the reminder of yet another thing she’d lost looming over her head. At least, she attempted comforting herself as she lay in bed, this way she couldn’t lose Raven like she’d lost Wells.

Sleep didn’t come to her easy that night and even when it finally blanketed over her, it was ridden with nightmares. When she woke up the next morning, it was mid-scream. Her skin was slick with sweat and her heart beat erratically against her ribs, as if it was trying to claw its way out of her chest because even it couldn’t bear to be around her. Silent tears slipped down her face as she padded to the kitchen after changing into a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt beneath Wells’ hoodie. Gathering her keys, phone and purse, Clarke didn’t even pause to have breakfast before she was slinking miserably out of the door.

Every year, she would head to his grave and kneel next to it for hours. Sometimes, she’d manage to tell him about how she was doing, the new friends she’d made, if she was dating someone, how she did on her exams, the book she was reading that she knew he’d love. She’d talk to his gravestone as if Wells were there instead. Usually, she’d last an hour before the lack of response became too much and her emotions overflowed. When that happened, Clarke would clutch at her chest, as if she could reach in and soothe the unbearable ache in her heart, and let out all the misery and agony in her sobs. Other times, she wouldn’t even manage to speak before she burst into tears, just the sight of a gravestone carved with the name ‘Wells Jaha’ being enough to send her over the edge. Most times, if someone passed by her, they would shoot her pitying glances. Some would attempt to comfort her. The worst were the ones that gave her a sad look and asked ‘soulmate?’ as if that was the only justification of her grief.

During the drive to the graveyard in which they’d buried Wells, Clarke felt numb. All her movements were robotic, learned from the times she’d done this before. By the time she was parking her car and slipping out of the door, her hands had begun trembling. Tucking them into her pockets, Clarke blindly made her way to her best friend’s gravestone. As soon as it came into view, tears sprung to Clarke’s eyes but she took a deep, steadying breath and forced them back – at least for the moment. Then, she sunk to her knees before sitting back onto her heels and tucking her legs underneath her. After a moment’s silence passed, Clarke opened her mouth and-

She froze. What was she supposed to tell him? That she’d pushed everyone she’d ever cared about away? That everyone who loved her was forced to leave her because she couldn’t bear hurting them? That she was all alone in the world now? If Wells was alive to see her now, he’d be devastated. Two tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto his hoodie.

“I miss you.” Was what finally broke from her tightening throat, barely anything more than a broken exhale. “I miss you so much and it _hurts_. It hurts to breathe every time I think about you and it hurts even more because I know you’d hate that. I know you’d want me to remember you and smile but I can’t because I want you to be here so badly and you’re not so I can’t be happy. And I know that’s selfish. It’s so selfish and I want to throw up every time it happens but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to not make it hurt that you’re not here. I’m a mess- I’m such a fucking mess and I need you, Wells. I need my best friend. But you’re not here and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do…” Clarke’s shuddering sobs were the only sounds that filled the too-heavy silence.

An unbearable ache began to form in her stomach and chest. Her throat felt like it was closing up and she couldn’t breathe. Clarke clutched her stomach and leaned over until her forehead was pressed against her knees, weeping through clenched teeth. If anyone walked by in the hours she spent crying in front of her childhood best friend’s grave, she didn’t notice.

When the sun began to set, Clarke forced herself to lock the remaining sadness and agony back inside her heart and pushed herself up on quaking legs. With a final glance at the gravestone, she took a shuddering breath and wiped the tears off her face.

“I love you.” It was a quiet whisper, a broken farewell.

Then, she clamped her trembling lips together and forced herself to walk away. At her sides, her hands were curled into shaking fists. With how she felt in that moment, she was sure she would have shattered under the mildest of circumstances.

Somehow, on the drive back to her apartment, Clarke felt even more numb than on the way there. All it would take was one thing for her to break completely and it was waiting for her when she got home.

Bellamy Blake stood in front of her door, hands nervously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and an anxious yet worried expression on his face. Upon first seeing him, Clarke thought she might be hallucinating, blinking her eyes slowly. When he didn’t disappear, panic rose, tightening her throat once more. She screwed her eyes shut. _No, please, no. Not today. Not right now. Please._

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to come off as hostile as she did, especially upon seeing him flinch a little, but she couldn’t handle pushing him away - hurting him - today. She was sure she’d break.

As he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, Clarke stared at him, heartbeat beginning to quicken.

“Raven told me what today was and I- I didn’t want you to be alone,” he finally said, averting his eyes and shifting nervously back onto his heels. Clarke’s heart strained painfully in her chest.

She so badly wanted to collapse into his arms, pull him close, and cry into his chest. She wanted to let him soothe away her pain and comfort her with soft touches and gentle words. She wanted to spend hours talking with him, laughing with him. She wanted Bellamy Blake to be her friend. Instead of saying any of that, she whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.” But, selfishly, she wanted him here.

Instead of getting upset, as she’d expected him to, he simply swallowed thickly. When he spoke, his voice was thick with earnest emotion, “I don’t care where you think I _should_ be. Do you want me here? Clarke, listen to me. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t _want_ me here. Do that, and I’m gone.”

And she knew he would. One sentence from her and he’d be gone. It would have been so easy to lie to him, to look him in the eyes and say ‘I don’t want you here’. She decided she was going to do that but as soon as her gaze locked onto his open, caring brown eyes, she shattered. Tears leaked from her eyes and a broken sound that might’ve been a sob escaped her lips. Without even a moment’s hesitation, Bellamy was surging forward and gathering her into his arms. Her hands clutched desperately at him.

“I can’t,” she gasped, voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I’m- I’m-“

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh. Clarke, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Bellamy ran a soothing hand over her hair but his words only caused her to cry harder. Pushing him away, she shook her head frantically. A pained expression on his face as he stared at her, hands still raised but making no move to touch her again unless she wanted it. Clarke’s heart broke.

“No, it’s not- it’s not okay,” she sobbed, struggling to gasp down air. “You can’t- I can’t let you be here. I can’t, Bellamy, I can’t.”

Bellamy stared at her with wide eyes. “Why?”

Screwing her eyes shut, Clarke shook her head. She couldn’t. There was no way she was strong enough to tell him.

Then, he whispered one broken word, “Please.”

A tear slid down her cheek and her lips trembled. When she spoke, her words were so quiet she wasn’t sure Bellamy would hear them but she couldn’t gather the confidence to speak any louder, “Because everyone I care about gets hurt and I can’t let that happen to you.”

When his face crumpled, Clarke knew he had heard her. She averted her gaze, watching the tears drip off her face and onto the floor. Then, gentle fingers were cupping her chin and carefully tilting her head up, forcing her tear-filled eyes to lock onto Bellamy’s warm gaze.

“Hey,” his voice was heartbreakingly tender, “why don’t we go inside? I’ll make you something warm to drink to help you feel better and we’ll talk. I promise, if you still believe I should leave after that, I’ll go. But just let me take care of you and then please give me a chance to convince you you’re wrong. If I can’t, I’ll leave. But all I’m asking for is a chance.”

She should have said no. Instead, Clarke found herself nodding and moving to open the door. Her hands were shaking so much, she couldn't manage to get the key into the lock. After a few seconds of struggling, Bellamy’s warm hand engulfed her own and gently pried the keys from her clenched fingers.

“I got it,” he said, unlocking and pushing open the door. “Just go sit on the couch and let me make something to drink. What do you prefer?”

Almost mechanically, Clarke followed his instructions and sunk onto the couch, all the fight seeping out of her.

“I don’t know.”

Without missing a beat, Bellamy nodded, a reassuring smile on his face, “That’s fine. When I’m upset, my mom always makes me a cup of hot chocolate and it always helps me feel even a little bit better. I’ll make you a cup.”

Numbly, Clarke nodded and watched as he retreated into her kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for the needed ingredients. It didn’t take long for him to return with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a matching warm smile. Gratefully, Clarke wrapped her fingers around the mug and inhaled the heavenly scent of the beverage. When she looked up, she found Bellamy watching her with a strange expression on his face.

Clarke blushed underneath the undivided focus of his gaze and asked, “What?”

Shaking his head, Bellamy replied, “Nothing. I just always do the same with my hot chocolate. O says it makes me a weirdo.”

Clarke ducked her head in an attempt to conceal her smile.

They sat in silence while Clarke drained every last drop of the drink. Like he’d said, by the time she’d finished the drink, she felt a bit better. As she placed her empty mug on the table, she let out a resigned sigh. There was no avoiding this conversation now.

To her shock though, Bellamy frowned and said, “I know it’s a hard day for you and as much as I want to talk about this, I won’t push you to do anything you can’t handle. I can just stay to be here for you, we don’t have to talk about it just yet.” Clarke knew he desperately wanted to have this discussion and yet here he was offering to let it drop for her sake. It was that, more than anything, that sealed her determination to talk about it with him. Even though that meant he would leave, she would do it. For him.

“No, we have to,” she said, trying to keep her voice strong. Judging by his hesitance, she failed.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she reaffirmed, placing her small hand over his in reassurance.

After studying her face for another moment, Bellamy nodded and leaned back into the couch, giving her the time and space to figure out what to say. Clarke started with her father, talking about how much she’d loved him and how good of a parent he’d been. Even though she hadn’t meant to bring soulmates into this, she found herself explaining her hatred of them as well. How, even though she knew it was irrational, she blamed her mother and her soulmate for her father’s death. How Jake Griffin’s death had nearly destroyed her. Soon, she moved onto Wells’ story. That he’d been her best friend for most of her life and that she’d lost him because he’d been protecting his soulmate. Considering the date, his story was the hardest for her to tell. But she pushed through it, forcing herself to move forward even when the tears were streaming down her face and her throat tightened. When the first sob broke through her lips, Bellamy pulled her against his chest and wiped away her tears. Despite the warning signals blaring in her head, Clarke let him. The feel of his steady heartbeat against her back calmed her enough to push through telling Finn’s story, the words Raven had screamed at her in a drunken rage that had remained with Clarke since then, and Lexa’s death.

“So, now you see,” Clarke sniffed, voice hoarse with the effort it had taken to tell him everything through her tears, “you can’t be here, you can’t get close to me, because everyone who does gets hurt or dies. It’s why I don’t make friends and it’s why you should leave. Thank you for staying, for helping me through today because you did. I feel a hell of a lot better than I would have had I been alone. But I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you because of me so you should go, Bellamy. Please.”

To her shock, Bellamy’s face was fixed in a determined expression as he said, “No.”

“No? You promised.”

Bellamy shook his head again. “No, I promised that I would leave, if you wanted me to _after_ I got to say what I want to. So, I’m going to respond to what you just said and if you still want me to leave, I promised I would. Alright?”

Shocked, Clarke could do nothing but nod and watch as Bellamy took a deep breath.

“But first, what I don’t understand is how you don’t believe in soulmates because you think an otherworldly power shouldn’t be able to decide who you love but you believe in some twisted sort of curse or something, presumably decided by that same otherworldly power, causes everyone you’re close to to get hurt. It doesn’t make sense to me.” Clarke gaped at him, she’d never thought of it like that.

“I mean, I don’t think of it as a curse,” she said slowly, unable to form a proper explanation.

Bellamy plowed ahead, “Exactly. So don’t you see, Clarke? Nothing about you causes harm to the people around you. You’ve just been unlucky and lost more than anyone ever should. But none of that was your fault. It couldn’t have been. It wasn’t fair for you to lose so many people and I get it, okay? I get blaming yourself. You’ve been through too much. I’ve been there. My dad died before I was even born, O’s dad left before she was born, and the girl I loved died when we were still teenagers. Would you say any of those were my fault?”

Immediately, Clarke said, “Of course not.”

Bellamy nodded solemnly, “Exactly. So if those weren’t my fault, then none of what happened to you was your fault either. And I think, deep down, you know that. So what is this distancing yourself really about?” Even though the words could have come off as accusatory or belittling, the gentle, understanding way Bellamy spoke them conveyed that they were anything but.

As she processed his words, Clarke’s chest heaved with her shallow breaths. He was right. Of course he was right. But admitting that to herself meant that she had to face the true reason she was afraid of letting people in.

“Because,” Clarke said, her voice a terrified whisper, “letting someone in, caring about them, means that it’ll hurt so much more when I lose them. And, in my experience, I always do.”

The tears slipped down her cheeks with renewed force and Bellamy tightened his hold around her.

“Clarke,” he said, voice agonized. “I hate that you had to go through all the pain of losing so many people you loved. But you can’t let that pain make you afraid to let people in. Even though I didn’t know them, I’m sure the people you’ve lost wouldn’t want their deaths to affect you this way.” Clarke winced at the truth in his statement. “Besides, this pushing everyone you love away. This lonely life. Can you honestly tell me that doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” Clarke said, shutting her eyes. “It hurts so damn much I feel like my heart is being ripped out every time I do it. But I’m afraid it would hurt more if I lost them.”

Bellamy ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly.

“And you don’t think, by pushing them away, you’re losing them too?” It was a truth she hadn’t allowed herself to admit.

Clarke buried her face in his chest and let out a wracking sob. “I’m just so scared, Bellamy.”

“I know,” he said reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know. Loving something that can die is scary. It’s a risk. But life’s all about risks, Clarke. If you always live in fear of pain, live in fear of risks, you’re not living, Clarke. You’re just surviving.”

“Life should be about more than just surviving,” she whispered, eyes still closed. Bellamy hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Life should be about more than just surviving.”

Even though they stopped talking for a while after that, Bellamy continued to run his hands up and down her arms and kept her situated closely against him, his face pressed into her hair. In his arms, Clarke felt safe. She dreaded the moment he would let her go. But for now, she was content to remain in his protective embrace.

Finally, he said, “Do you still think I should leave?”

For a moment, Clarke remained silent. It was difficult to let go of months’ worth of terror and she wasn’t entirely sure she managed to stop believing in it completely. However, she somehow managed to find the strength to push past the irrational fear and say, “No. I want you to stay. Please stay.”

Although she couldn’t see it, Clarke felt his bright smile against her head.

“As long as you want me to, Princess,” he whispered, the name that had once been a mockery was now a loving nickname that had Clarke’s heart fluttering.

The exhaustion of the day must have finally caught up to her, because Clarke drifted into a content sleep to the sound of Bellamy Blake’s heartbeat.

* * *

Bellamy awoke to something soft tickling his arms and face. Eyes fluttering open, he glanced down to see Clarke Griffin still fast asleep on his chest, her face content and relaxed in sleep. At the sight, his heart swelled. Last night, when she’d asked him to stay at the very end, he’d thought his heart might burst from happiness right then and there. It was at that moment that he also realized that he had a humiliatingly pathetic crush on the girl currently sound asleep in his arms.

Clarke began to stir and, soon, her captivating blue eyes were blinking open to stare at him. A sleepy smile that had his heart stuttering made its way onto her face.

“Morning,” she whispered, voice adorably thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, mindlessly tucking a loose curl back behind her ear. Her smile only widened as she continued to gaze up at him. Contently, Bellamy could have lived in that moment forever.

Unfortunately, his stomach had other plans, considering the loud, angry growl it let out that had Clarke gasping with laughter. Any traces of embarrassment he might’ve felt melted at the sound of her beautiful laugh and, if he could, Bellamy would bottle up the sound and listen to it whenever he felt upset. With the wondrous expression on his face, Bellamy was sure he looked like an idiot. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What?” Clarke asked, noticing it.

“Happiness looks good on you,” he whispered, blushing a little. When he risked a glance at her, he found that Clarke’s cheeks were sporting a similar blush. The dazzling smile on her face made the embarrassment worth while.

Then, she got up and Bellamy was pathetically disappointed by the loss of contact. But she was still beaming down at him so the feeling faded quickly.

“I think we should have breakfast. Your stomach seems to agree and I’m afraid of what it will do if you don’t eat,” she joked, prompting a laugh from Bellamy.

Following her into the kitchen, he helped her make two omelets and sat down across from her at the kitchen counter. While they ate, he caught sight of the stack bracelets on her left wrist again and blurted out the question before he could think better of it.

“Do you really hate soulmates?”

Clearly startled, Clarke’s eyes were wide as she gaped at him. Before answering, she swallowed thickly, “I don’t think so. At least, not anymore. Raven was right about one thing. I used to blame everything that went wrong in my life on soulmates when in reality I was just an incredibly unlucky person who got to witness the most tragic scenarios. I think at this point I fear them more than I hate them. I’m scared of the idea that I don’t get to control who the perfect person is for me and if that person, decided by a mark I was born with, turns out to be a complete asshole, that I’ve missed my one chance at true love. I’m just scared.” A sheepish smile was on her face.

Without thinking, Bellamy reached over and took her hands in his own. Comfortingly, he ran his thumb along the back of her hand. “I don’t think that’s how soulmates work.”

“No?” Clarke asked, brows furrowing adorably.

“No,” he reaffirmed and, as his mother had done for him, explained to Clarke why the traditional view of soulmates wasn’t the one he chose to believe in.

By the time he was done, he was a nervous wreck. One look at Clarke’s face managed to ease all his worries. The expression of wonder on her face as she gazed at _him_ had his heart soaring and a blush colouring his cheeks.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” She breathed, somehow managing to make Bellamy’s face turn an even deeper shade of red. “I’ve never felt like- You’re amazing, Bellamy Blake.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Griffin,” he replied, because that’s what he resorted to when attempting to flirt with a girl he liked: tasteless jokes.

Apparently, Clarke seemed to like his horrible humour because she let out a loud giggle.

Yeah, Bellamy decided, her laugh might be the best sound he’d ever heard.

* * *

A month passed and things had been looking great for Clarke. While she spent most of her time with Bellamy now (even hanging out outside of their Saturday bookstore meetups), Clarke had taken the first couple of steps towards mending her relationships with her friends. Obviously, she’d started with Raven, showing up at the girl’s door with a bar of her favourite chocolates a week after Wells’ anniversary. Upon seeing her, Raven’s face had immediately broken out into a bright grin and she’d pulled the blonde into a tight hug. Two weeks later, she’d dragged Clarke to game night and her former friends had welcomed her with open arms. It hadn’t been the same as before but it was a step in the right direction. Obviously, Bellamy’s presence had been a huge comfort. Especially during the moments of initial panic where she’d struggled to push past the old fear of letting people in again. He’d helped her through it and, on the way back to her apartment, when he’d hugged her goodbye and told her he thought she was amazing, Clarke had finally realized that she had an embarrassingly huge crush on him. But she’d refrained from doing anything about it. Even if (and that was a big if) he had feelings for her too, he deserved someone who wasn’t such a mess. Maybe someday she would be that person and there would be a chance but for now she’d focus all her efforts on getting there.

“Sup, Princess,” Bellamy greeted, startling her. He held a bag of chips in one hand and a bag of sour candies in the other. Oh, shit. Clarke had forgotten about their plans to watch the newest Avengers movie together tonight.

At the sight of her guilty expression and pajamas, Bellamy laughed, “You forgot about me, didn't you?”

“Of course not,” Clarke defended indignantly. “I didn’t forget about _you_. I just simply forgot you were coming over. There’s a difference.”

Once again, Bellamy laughed, and the sound had Clarke’s insides warming. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can still watch it. Come on.” She patted the space next to her on the couch and Bellamy dropped into it after emptying the bags of snacks into two separate bowls.

Soon, the movie was playing and Clarke was munching on fistfuls of chips, not caring about the crumbs she was getting everywhere, especially since she knew how much it infuriated Bellamy. Indeed, she caught him grimacing every now and then and tossing her mild glares. It was all she could do to keep from outright smirking.

“You’re an asshole,” he muttered darkly, reaching over to grab a chip, making a point of eating it without getting a single crumb on the couch. Like the mature adult she was, Clarke stuck her tongue out at him. In retaliation, Bellamy attacked her sides with his fingers, tickling her senseless.

“Stop,” she gasped, between giggles, “please.” Only Bellamy didn’t cease his merciless assault and Clarke began to roll off the couch. In an effort to keep her from falling, Bellamy grabbed her wrist. Her left wrist. Her left wrist that had her soulmark on it, left exposed because she’d changed into her pajamas and forgotten that he was coming over.

Clearly, Bellamy didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary but Clarke couldn’t help it, considering the buzz that went through her entire arm as soon as his large fingers came in contact with the mark. As if she’d been burned, Clarke yanked her hand away and stared down at it with wide, terrified eyes.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was full of confusion and concern. He followed her eyes down to the wrist she cradled to her chest.

Clarke’s soulmark - the previously black outlined image of a human brain - had turned a gleaming silver. 

“Is that- Did I- Holy shit!”

But Clarke didn’t pay his exclamations any heed. Instead, she reached out for his right wrist, where she’d seen his black soulmark - the outline of a human heart - thousands of times. With shaking fingers, she traced the mark carefully, watching as the black lines turned into a brilliant gold as her fingers ran over them reverently.

“Clarke.” The sound of her name from his lips broke her out of the sort of trance she’d been in and she flinched away from him.

“I- I can’t,” were the only words she could bring herself to gasp out before she jumped off the couch and ran into her bedroom.

She caught Bellamy calling after her in a pained voice before she shut and locked the door behind her, sinking down with her back against the wood, tears springing to her eyes. A knock sounded and he begged her to open the door, to talk to him, but Clarke ignored his voice, burying her head between her knees.

For years, she’d hated soulmates and then the hatred had turned to a fear she was only beginning to address. What was she supposed to do now? For some reason, she’d expected that when she found her soulmate, her feelings would immediately change and she’d be pulled to them by an irresistible force. She’d assumed everything would change. But even now that she knew he was her soulmate, Clarke’s feelings towards Bellamy hadn’t altered in some life-changing way. She still liked him the same amount as before and that had stemmed from months of friendship. It wasn’t some out of control force coercing her into loving some stranger. It was her choosing to build something with Bellamy.

Clarke took a deep, steadying breath. Being soulmates with Bellamy wasn’t a bad thing. It was probably the best scenario that could have taken place. But Clarke knew she wasn’t ready yet. She wasn’t ready to take on the stress and expectations of being with her soulmate. She wasn’t ready but she wanted to get there. She wanted to get there with Bellamy. She wanted to try.

But trying meant that she couldn’t shut him out, so she pushed herself to her feet and unlocked the door, stumbling out into her apartment. To her immediate terror, it was empty. Bellamy must have returned home, believing he should give her the space to think. Even though she was disappointed he wasn’t here, Clarke’s heart swelled at the gesture. However, she wasn’t just going to sit around and let him think she was upset that he was her soulmate. Or, even worse, that she didn’t want _him_. As a soulmate or anything else. The thought made her sick to her stomach and it was what prompted her to quickly pull on a long coat and stuff her feet in a pair of boots before rushing out into the cool night.

It was a short drive to the Blake’s, one that Clarke had done many times over the past month. Immediately after parking the car, she jumped from the vehicle and rushed to the apartment building, only coming to a stop when she was standing in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, Clarke reached out her hand and knocked. It took a minute for him to answer and Clarke got more and more nervous with every passing second. A part of her screamed at her to run, that this was the stupidest thing she could possibly be doing. Most of her was determined to do this, keeping her feet planted firmly in front of the door, even as it was pulled open to reveal a disheveled looking Bellamy.

At the sight of his puffy, red-rimmed eyes, Clarke’s heart strained. It hurt beyond belief to know that she’d caused him any sort of pain. But that was why she was here now. So she could fix this.

“Clarke,” he breathed, reminding her that she hadn’t come all this way in the middle of the night just to stare at him.

“Bellamy,” she began, “I’m going to say some things. And I just want you to let me get everything out before you say anything. Please.”

Swallowing, Bellamy nodded and Clarke took a deep breath.

“You know I’ve never been the biggest fan of soulmates. And, up until now, I was terrified of finding my soulmate because I thought that when I did, I would lose all choice in the matter, despite me trying to believe what you told me about soulmates. But finding out that you’re my soulmate, is the best thing that could have happened to me, Bell.” His lips parted in shock and wonder but Clarke plowed on. “I know now that you choose your soulmates because, mark or not, I’m in love with you, Bellamy Blake. And I know that I’m a mess right now and I’m nowhere near ready for everything that comes with being soulmates, but I also know that I want to try. That is, if you’ll wait for me. But I also understand if you don’t feel the same way and the marks don’t change anything for you.” Fixing her stare on the floor by his feet, Clarke couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. But then, Bellamy’s hands were cupping her face with heartbreaking gentleness and Clarke couldn’t help but risk a glance up at his face. She was met with his heart-meltingly beautiful smile and warm, hopeful eyes.

“I would wait eons for you, Clarke Griffin,” he whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, “because I’m in love with you too.” Clarke’s heart soared and she surged up, pressing her mouth against his in a soft, slow kiss, hoping that it projected every emotion she couldn’t manage to convey using words. He kissed her back eagerly.

When they pulled apart, foreheads still resting against each other, his arms encircling her waist and holding her close to him, Clarke decided that there was no other place she’d rather be than in her soulmate’s arms.


End file.
